


suffocation

by Akane21



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Physical Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akane21/pseuds/Akane21
Summary: Despite being used to pain, Kakuzu doesn't enjoy it; and he would never willingly let someone hurt him.But Pein is, and has always been, the only exception.
Relationships: Hidan/Kakuzu (Naruto), Kakuzu/Nagato | Pain
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	1. when you least expect it

Hidan almost never stops talking, and it’s literally impossible to get him to shut up.

And listening to him is impossibly annoying.

Especially when he’s talking nonsense about that god of his again; he can’t seem to grasp the fact that Kakuzu isn’t interested in this at all.

Though sometimes Kakuzu thinks that Hidan speaks mostly to himself; and he has no choice but to put up with this.

“Even you can’t deny the greatness of a true god,” Hidan grins. It’s as if he’s trying to start yet another pointless argument.

It’s stupid. But what is more stupid—is that he almost succeeds.

It’s definitely not what Kakuzu should be saying.

“There is only one true god,” but the words escape his mouth before he can stop them, “and it’s not your Jashin.”

Hidan shuts up, looking at him in surprise.

“Now that’s unexpected. Well, who is it, then?”

It would be wiser to stop at that; a pointless conversation, unnecessary honesty that will only arise too many questions; but for some reason, Kakuzu replies.

“Pein.”

Hidan’s look expresses nothing but confusion.

Kakuzu didn’t expect someone like him to understand.

Especially considering that he doesn’t quite understand it himself.

But for him, it is true.

Since their very first meeting he doesn’t see Pein in any other way.

Well, if he’s honest, when he first sees him, hears his words—Pein doesn’t really impress him.

_A world without wars—what nonsense. The wars will never stop, such is the human nature—Kakuzu knows this from his own experience. Only hopeless fools dream of changing the world._

_And he thinks of Pein as just that—a fool—at first._

_He says, “I am a god who will save this world.”_

_Holds out his hand, inviting to follow him._

_Kakuzu grins to himself—what nonsense indeed—and lunges forward to attack._

_Pein defeats him with ease, hardly challenged; down on his knees, Kakuzu looks up at him, enveloped in the morning light, and understands—subconsciously at that moment—that Pein’s words are true._

_He alone can change their world, full of violence and hatred._

_He alone has the power to._

_Pein, as a god would be, is merciful, giving him another chance. One he can’t refuse—but Kakuzu isn’t going to._

_He follows Pein, a silent shadow behind him, already knowing deep inside that he’ll never leave his side._

_Hearing Pein speak about his vision of the world is truly awe-inspiring; though most don’t show much interest. Hidan laughs openly, others simply don’t seem to care._

_Kakuzu hangs on Pein’s every word, not showing it._

_It’s impossible not to admire the Leader’s strength—impossible not to admire him._

_Before, Kakuzu was skeptical about fanatics of all kinds. But after some time, he understood—everyone needs to believe in something to keep moving forward._

_For Deidara and Sasori it’s their art; for Hidan—his strange religion; Itachi and Kisame don’t ever speak of their ideals, but it’s obvious that they, too, have something to fight for._

_Everyone in the Akatsuki has._

_Except Kakuzu._

_And so he chooses to believe in Pein—in his strength and his dreams. Dreams of a perfect world with no wars and death; too idealistic to be taken seriously._

_But Pein makes him see everything in a different light._

“Nice joke,” Hidan says after a long silence.

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, seeing no point in continuing this conversation.

This isn’t a joke or a delusion; it’s the most truthful thing he’s ever said.

Pein is his god, whose power cannot be questioned.

The only difference is that Kakuzu doesn’t pray to him like Hidan prays to his god.

_But perhaps he’s not far from it._

***

It’s not like he and Pein meet often—not as often as Kakuzu would like it; and these meetings are usually limited to him reporting on the mission and Pein issuing a new one.

They don’t really have anything else to speak about. Pein isn’t one for small talk, and discussing personal matters is unreasonable at best.

Pein doesn’t seem like he needs—or is interested in something like this.

Until one day.

When Pein asks him, for no apparent reason:

“Why did you join the Akatsuki? What are you fighting for?” and there is a spark of interest in his usually indifferent eyes.

It’s as if the answer is important to him.

But what a strange question.

Is Pein doubting his loyalty? Why else would he ask?

As if Kakuzu had a choice—and it’s not even because he lost back then.

In any case, Kakuzu doesn’t know what to say; so he stays silent.

Until this silence becomes unbearable; until Pein looks at him, as if rushing him.

When he finally speaks, his voice sounds even and dry.

“I’ve already told you—I only care about money. This is my only reason.”

Pein seems... disappointed. He nods and turns away, looking into the distance.

The setting sun illuminates his face in reddish orange, and in this moment, he is beautiful.

More than ever before.

Kakuzu looks at Pein, unable to take his eyes off him—he wants to capture this image in his mind forever, so strangely peaceful, relaxed; as if he was not tormented by the past, present and future.

 _I fight for you, Leader-sama_.

Some things are best left unsaid.

Pein turns to him suddenly. His look is unreadable, leaving no chance to know what he’s thinking; but he seems to see right through Kakuzu.

Kakuzu hopes that he doesn’t really _see_.

Something in Pein’s face changes subtly, emotions showing underneath his usual mask of indifference; what is it—surprise, confusion?

Kakuzu looks away first, unable to keep this awkward eye contact any longer.

Still, something changes after this.

It’s as if Pein begins to trust him a little more; though the changes are so insignificant that someone else wouldn’t have noticed them at all.

Kakuzu isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Should he be glad that they start seeing each other a little more often?

Even if they hardly talk, aside from discussing the missions or the organization’s financial affairs.

Kakuzu doesn’t understand what Pein even invites him for. There are times when he simply looks at him, not saying a single word—and not letting Kakuzu speak, either. This is not a comfortable silence; but Kakuzu can’t refuse it, the opportunity to spend an extra hour or two close to Pein.  
Their short meetings are filled with awkwardness, and even though they are together, it feels like they are separated from each other.

Perhaps it’s _because_ they are together.

***

“Kakuzu,” Pein says. “You stay—I need to speak with you. Privately.”

“Of course—” Kakuzu starts after some hesitation but is interrupted.

“What, you keeping secrets from me?” Hidan grins, seemingly displeased. “Still don’t trust me, eh, Leader?”

Kakuzu shoots him a warning look. “Go, Hidan. This will not take long.”

“Oh, fuck. Like I care!” Hidan scowls at him but does not argue further.

They both wait in silence until he leaves.

“He’s so troublesome,” Kakuzu mutters under his breath, but Pein still hears.

“Yet you work together well, right?” he observes. “Results are what matters.”

“You wanted to talk about Hidan?” Kakuzu turns to him. This wouldn’t surprise him; on the contrary, it would be completely normal. And even though he hopes for something different, he doesn’t expect it.

Pein takes some time to reply, while Kakuzu looks at him expectantly—such hesitation is unusual. “No,” he finally says. “There was something else.”

Kakuzu is silent, allowing him to speak, and Pein continues. “I would like to ask you about something,” this time, there seems to be something close to uncertainty in his voice.

It’s strange, as usually he doesn’t show any emotion.

Still, Kakuzu hides his surprise and simply nods.

“Ask away, Leader-sama.”

“What do you feel for me?” Pein looks at him, just as calm as always, but this question is... unsettling, and that’s an understatement.

“What do you mean?”

It sounds completely fake.

“Perhaps I... misunderstood you,” Pein even looks somewhat uncertain now. “In that case, I have to apologize. But I’d still like to hear your answer.”

As if this answer is so easy to give.

What Kakuzu feels for Pein is too complicated to explain in a few words. These feelings have long gone beyond respect and admiration; but he has trouble fully understanding them himself. Just being near Pein—this opportunity alone is priceless.

But Kakuzu can’t say any of that; as if these words will further disrupt the fragile balance of this weird _something_ between them. For a moment, emotions overwhelm him; it gets difficult to breathe.

Pein is amazing, perfect; and, perhaps, being able to look into his eyes is the only thing Kakuzu lives for. This sounds stupid enough in his head—he’s not going to say it out loud.

Pein doesn’t let him answer, as if he sees everything just by looking at him.

He’s damn perceptive.

Or perhaps, it really is so obvious.

“I see,” his reply is short and dry, as always—and there was no sense in expecting anything else.

“Leader-sama,” Kakuzu starts, but doesn’t find words. It feels strange to try and come up with an excuse; he wasn’t the one who started this conversation. But he has to say something.

Pein interrupts him softly, “Call me by my name.”

Kakuzu looks at him, confused, but his eyes remain serious and calm.

Why?

“Pein-sama?” he asks, and it must sound awkward as hell, but Pein nods.

He smiles lightly, barely noticeably, but still; it’s so strange.

The only time Kakuzu saw Pein smile was on the day they first met—and that was quite some years ago.

And over the years, his smile hasn’t changed, and Pein himself is the same as before, amazingly unreal—as if not from this world, not human—

 _A God_.

“A bit too formal, but if you need time to get used to it—you can call me so,” Pein says quietly and touches his palm—barely tangible, as if asking for permission, and Kakuzu holds his hand firmly, a courage he didn’t expect from himself.

Pein doesn’t seem to mind; and the look in his eyes is unusually warm.

“What are you doing?”

Kakuzu feels hope light up inside him again; but thinking that Pein could ever possibly return his feelings is beyond foolish.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Pein asks instead.

“I...” it’s even more foolish to deny the obvious, and Kakuzu gives up. “Yes.”

“And this is what I want.”

Kakuzu has no reason to doubt the sincerity of Pein’s words; he had never lied to him, after all. And yet this is so weird—unbelievable.

Could Pein really feel something even close to interest towards him?

“Kiss me,” Pein says suddenly—and quite bluntly.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Kakuzu’s cheek before pulling down the mask that covers his face, looks right at him, confident in his request.

And it all seems too fast, too sudden—but Kakuzu has waited for this far too long to refuse now.

He leans down and kisses Pein—and in this moment, the overwhelming happiness almost makes him sick, a feeling too strong to bear. It seems unreal and at the same time— _too_ real, too bright and intense; it makes his head spin and all the self-control disappear.

Pein’s lips are soft and cool; his hands, slightly trembling, hold Kakuzu by the shoulders; the way he kisses him is certain yet too careful, as though he is still unsure; and there is power in him, so attracting.

Kakuzu can’t resist him.

And now, he doesn’t want to.

Pulling away, Pein smiles a little again—and Kakuzu would look at his smile for eternity.

How foolish.

***

“Is something wrong?” Pein sounds genuinely concerned—and, perhaps, confused.

Kakuzu shakes his head, unable to explain it.

He feels as though if he touches Pein, the illusion will break.

What’s happening is already too unreal.

Pein understands him without any words, just by looking at him—like always; but he just sighs, smiles lightly and says, “It’s alright. You may touch me however you want.”

As a confirmation, Pein takes Kakuzu’s hand and puts it on his chest, looking at him—certain and calm as ever.

Kakuzu feels ashamed for doubting.

Pein’s skin is cool, almost ice-cold—it isn’t repulsive, yet strange; it isn’t that cold in the room. But it’s not worth focusing too long on.

Pein shudders slightly when Kakuzu moves his hand up to his neck, more exploring than caressing; touches his cheek, brushes his fingers over his lips—and Pein leans in, closing his eyes.

“See? Don’t be afraid,” he exhales before kissing Kakuzu.

Kakuzu isn’t afraid—not of what Pein assumes, at least.

He fears that everything will turn out to be no more than a dream.

And he fears to disappoint Pein.

He doesn’t say what he expects from him.

But so far, it seems, Kakuzu does nothing that would be unpleasant to him; and, perhaps, there is no sense in worrying _that_ much about it.

“And I want to touch you, too.” Pein moves a hand up his chest slowly, fingers barely touching the skin. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Kakuzu replies. He isn’t certain how to react but doesn’t object or move, allowing Pein to continue.

He searches for disappointment in Pein's look, but he's just as calm as always.

His touch is light, almost gentle—he's unusually careful, not exactly what Kakuzu expected from him.

There's nothing to complain about, though.

It's barely noticeable, but Pein seems to smile a little.

His cool fingers trace down Kakuzu's shoulder, and all the while he keeps looking into his eyes.

Kakuzu isn't used to such close contact, and something, subconsciously, doesn't let him relax. He's always wary, knowing full well that trust is a luxury for someone like him. He won't harm Pein and he is not going to push him away now; but this feeling of wrongness still lingers at the back of his mind.

He still has trouble believing this.

“I apologize if I do something wrong,” Pein looks at him. “It’s been quite a while since I last was with someone.”

“It’s not that,” Kakuzu shakes his head. “Go on.”

It does feel strange, to be with _someone_ , not a stranger for one night whose name escapes the memory even before the morning comes. Kakuzu can’t even say for sure when was the last time it happened.

A criminal’s life isn’t exactly fit for that; unless you search among the likes of yourself, people who aren’t exactly trustworthy.

But Pein—he’s an exception. He might be the only one Kakuzu fully trusts.

However strange that might be.

“How do you want it?” Pein asks as he shifts closer, embracing him carefully—as though ready to let go at any moment.

“I don’t really care,” Kakuzu runs his hand through Pein’s short hair, tangles his fingers in the soft strands, noticing how Pein closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. “However you like.”

Pein kisses him again, still too cautious—while surprising, it’s endearing; looks at him with a barely noticeable smile.

“And still, I want you to like it too.”

As if it were possible otherwise; it doesn’t matter what Pein wants as long as he lets Kakuzu be near.

“Are you alright?”

Pein nods slowly and almost immediately grips his shoulders, exhaling.

Kakuzu runs his hands down his back, watching his expression intently.

“Don’t rush,” he says, forgetting the formalities. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Pein lets out a quiet laugh which soon breaks into a moan when he starts moving—still unsure, as if getting used to the forgotten sensations. He leans down to Kakuzu, lips pressing against his, whispers in between the kisses, “You’re too worried... but it’s so...” Pein trails off; shudders, letting out another ragged breath.

Kakuzu takes his face into his hands, looks into his eyes—he still doesn’t believe Pein is real now.

 _I love you,_ he wants to say, but the same doubts stop him—it’s too early, too foolish; it can only ruin everything.

So Kakuzu just says, “You’re perfect,” and kisses him, feeling him smile again.

The opportunity he didn’t dare dream about—being close to Pein; touching him—and receiving the same in return.

Kakuzu has no illusions; it’s unlikely that Pein _loves_ him or feels anything more than an interest, simple desire for someone’s warmth; but it’s enough.

This is more than he could ever hope for.

And _better_ —this intimacy, slow moves in which control is shared between them; kisses filled with so strange tenderness—finally Kakuzu realizes that this is real; not his imagination, not some crazy fantasy; and it’s perfect.

Pein’s initial restraint goes away, and his responsiveness makes Kakuzu want to touch him more; he wants to stop this moment, freeze it forever, it’s like it’s never enough—even when Pein quietly but audibly breathes his name, when he grabs and pulls his hair, making him tilt back his head, kisses him, sending shiver through his body.

All Kakuzu can do is kiss Pein back, holding him tight, catch his every breath and moan; noticing now and again how his face changes, twisting in passion, despite all his attempts to hold back.

And understand with each second that he does love him—more than anyone before.

Kakuzu _almost_ says it, captivated by his impossible gaze.

But all these words clearly aren’t needed now—and Kakuzu just pulls Pein into another kiss, trying to convey at least part of the feelings overwhelming him.

Pein pulls away suddenly, looking at him intently—whispers, hoarse and quiet, as if _asking_ , “I want you to look at me.”

This passion in his voice sounds unusual, but also—attracting.

Kakuzu already looks only at him—he likes seeing the unfamiliar bright emotions on his usually always calm face.

Pein puts his cold palms on his shoulders, at first stroking gently, moving up to his neck, but this tenderness soon gives way to something else; and Kakuzu doesn’t know why he stays still when Pein runs his fingers along his throat—and squeezes hard, not letting him breathe.

Maybe it’s the look in his eyes.

Or this _trust._

What Pein is doing doesn’t look like a game—more like an intent to kill.

Kakuzu doesn’t even think about pushing him away.

Much less hurting him in return.

All he can do is gasp for breath, while still looking at him, as he asks—commands.

Feeling lightheaded from the lack of air, Kakuzu squeezes his eyes shut; almost immediately Pein leans down, kisses his face, his eyelids, repeating quietly but clearly, “Look at me,” and Kakuzu looks—right into his eyes, burning with madness; and through the pain he can’t help but thinks how beautiful Pein is now.

Cold fingers grip tighter, and Kakuzu struggles instinctively to get free—to get at least some air. Pein says nothing more, only stares at him, watches, holding him firmly—and keeps moving, not caring even about his own comfort; though, perhaps, he likes it more this way.

He’s not the only one, if so; it gets harder to breathe, but the arousal is still there, and this almost makes Kakuzu lose his mind—and his consciousness, this mix of pain and pleasure.

Pein inhales sharply, hands clutching on his throat, completely blocking the oxygen; he moves again, rising and immediately slamming his body down; ecstasy blends in with the increasing pain, and it’s hard to understand which sensation is stronger.

Pein’s hands tremble, and he’s trembling, too, whispering something incoherently, something Kakuzu can’t understand; his vision darkens, and he can’t make a single sound—he only opens his mouth to no avail, arches his back, clutches on Pein’s wrists in a desperate attempt—let go—

He can’t breathe anymore.

The last thing he sees is the horror of realization flashing in Pein’s eyes.

When his consciousness returns to him, Pein is still next to him. He’s silent, carefully stroking his disheveled hair, and there’s a strange sorrow in his eyes and something like regret—guilt.

Kakuzu doesn’t quite understand what he himself should feel now.

He thinks he doesn’t feel anything.

“Pein,” his throat still hurts, and it’s hard to speak. “What...”

“I went too far,” Pein touches his face lightly before finally pulling away. “I am sorry.”

Kakuzu shakes his head, unable to say anything—he’s not sure there is anything to say at all.

Is it about him or Pein?

This is hardly important.

“It surely... wasn’t what you expected from me,” Pein trails off, looking aside. “And I’ll understand if you don’t want to... continue this.”

What’s left of his common sense tells Kakuzu to accept the offered way out. To forget about everything, go back to the beginning and never remember.

Neither this incident, nor what preceded it.

However, when had Kakuzu ever listened to the voice of reason if it came to Pein?

“Just warn me ahead that you like... such things,” he suppresses the cough rising to his throat and forces a strained grin. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Kakuzu...” Pein starts, but he doesn’t let him finish.

“After all, you didn’t kill me.”

This can’t be considered even a slightly decent joke; but Kakuzu still forces himself to laugh.

As if he paints the situation as something so insignificant, it will become such.

Pein shakes his head, then nods, still with doubt in his gaze. At the same time with hope and strange tenderness.

At that moment, Kakuzu is still willing to consider what happened a simple accident; even almost forgets about it after the first shock.

Pein hasn’t been with anyone in a long time; he ‘went too far’, having misinterpreted his reactions—which happens. He regrets it, admitting his mistake—and it’s a minor thing.

It’s fine.

Nothing to worry about.

But although that might have been an accident, what happens next time can be hardly called that.

Things really go _too far._

Cold metal rips through the skin—cuts deep into the flesh, almost reaching the bone, but the pain somehow doesn’t seem that bad.

After the blade, Pein’s hand touches him—it’s hardly warmer than the metal but softer—more tender, stroking almost soothingly.

It’s somewhat pleasant; and Kakuzu leans into the touch, trying to prolong the moment, not even realizing just what is happening; it’s as if he’s watching from a distance.

Pein runs his hand along the edge of the wound—and digs his fingers inside, breaking the ribs like a minor obstacle; reaches to where the heart, wrapped in black threads, is beating chaotically, and Kakuzu doesn’t resist.

The trust which is borderline stupid—no, outright madness, and it’s hard to say which one of them is more crazy right now.

Kakuzu could, perhaps, stop Pein—or at least try, he has all the possibilities; his body itself is a weapon, he can strike at any moment; but even the thought of harming Pein seems to him the worst blasphemy.

Pein is his god.

And Kakuzu allows his god everything.

Right now Pein can even kill him—he won’t do anything.

He _won’t dare_.

Why would he—he’s _happy_.

It’s stronger than love, this chilling sensation coursing through his veins; better than any pleasure, burned under his eyelids; worse than the most unbearable pain, remaining in a salty bitter taste of blood on his lips.

Blood is everywhere, so much of it that he should already be dead but is somehow still alive.

_Because his god doesn’t want him to die._

Deep wounds on his already scarred body—it’s as though Pein is leaving a mark on him, a sign that he belongs to him.

_Only him._

And isn’t this the best proof of his _feelings_.

“Like this,” Pein whispers, “good.”

It almost doesn’t hurt—it’s weird, unusual, so cold for some reason; and there’s no shade of fear.

His heart is beating under Pein’s fingers, and he can destroy it at any moment, it won’t even kill Kakuzu; but Pein does nothing.

 _Justifying the trust_.

Now more than ever Kakuzu understands Hidan and his delusional prayers; but Hidan’s god is nothing, a fiction, while Kakuzu’s god is before him.

He never knew how to pray; shallow praise will not suffice, and he dares not to ask for something.

And so Kakuzu only repeats his name, hoping that at least a fraction of all his feelings will be heard—understood.

“Yes,” Pein leans closer to him, looks into his eyes. “Just like this.”

Kakuzu doesn’t look for the meaning in his words, he only listens to his voice—calm, certain, at the same time—as if asking.

Asking to allow him some more pain—and why not, if his god so wishes.

Kakuzu isn’t afraid of another short death.

He sees only Pein’s eyes, mad and full of strange curiosity.

And then the world goes dark.

There is still no fear.

Fear comes later—mad, more like panic.

When Kakuzu regains his consciousness, he doesn’t immediately understand what’s happening; but remembers everything once he sees Pein’s face.

And fear mixes with pain.

It’s worse than the wounds—which will heal rather quickly—something deep inside hurts much more.

 _Why, for what, what the hell_ ; but there are no answers.

Because he allowed it.

Perhaps it would’ve been easier if Pein wasn’t here now; it would be easier to gather his thoughts, to understand what to do next.

But Pein is _here_.

Pein is _too close_ ; and he sees, can’t not see the way Kakuzu instinctively jerks back, trying to get away as far as he can—as far as it’s possible on the narrow bed with a wall behind him and Pein right in front of him.

Pein freezes, though it seems he wanted to touch; there’s bitterness and understanding in his eyes.

Kakuzu forces himself to take a few deep breaths and calm down; Pein will not harm him, not now.

He can’t be certain.

Not anymore.

“Are you alright?” Pein asks quietly.

There’s regret in his voice and something like hope.

Kakuzu doesn’t know how to reply; all the thoughts have disappeared, there’s a deafening emptiness in his head.

He only says, “You wanted to kill me.” And it’s not a question.

Pein shudders, looks at him, almost terrified, and the way he’s so emotional takes Kakuzu aback.

“No,” he reaches out and lowers his hand upon noticing Kakuzu tense immediately. “No,” he repeats helplessly, “Never. I didn’t mean to do it, believe me.”

“Then why?”

Despite all his efforts, Kakuzu can’t hide the shake in his voice; and it’s not fear of pain or death, it’s confusion—fear of this side of Pein.

Trust is too much of a luxury, and he shouldn’t have forgotten about that.

“Sometimes...” Pein closes his eyes, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Sometimes I cannot stop. Something forces me to hurt people, even if I do not really want to. I thought it would be different with you. That I would be able to resist.”

Slowly, Kakuzu touches Pein’s hand, runs his fingers along his pale palm; and Pein almost immediately embraces him, making him freeze in place.

He wants to get away—but he can’t even move.

“Forgive me,” Pein holds him tightly, face pressed against his shoulder; and Kakuzu has never seen him so emotional before—it’s so unlike him, he looks so _human_. “Forgive me, I truly...”

“It’s alright. I believe you,” for some reason Kakuzu’s voice doesn’t obey him, and it sounds so pathetic he’s disgusted with himself.

Alright?

As if.

Pein doesn’t reply, only holding him tighter; and it hurts somewhat because of the still unhealed wounds, but Kakuzu ignores physical pain.

It’s so insignificant now that it almost isn’t there.

It hurts in a _different_ way.

Even now, Kakuzu still wants to get away, to shove him off, so he never touches him again—

At the same time, he only wishes for Pein to hold him like this forever.

Damn all these conflicted feelings—they’re so hard to get rid of.

Impossible.

“If you...” Pein’s voice almost breaks, but he regains control over himself at the last moment. “If you can give me another chance, I will try—”

“Pein-sama,” Kakuzu stops him—reverting to addressing him formally, as though this thin barrier can distance them from each other; but perhaps he should have thought about it sooner. “I told you: I believe you.”

It’s not entirely true.

He doesn’t know if he does.

But he _wants_ to.

_Pein has never lied to him before._

“Don’t look at me like this,” Pein says with a sort of desperation in his voice. “I promise I will never do something like that again.”

Kakuzu is silent, staring at him—Pein stares back, and there’s only tenderness and deep regret in his eyes.

“You said you believed me.”

“I did,” Kakuzu agrees.

There is no reason _not to believe_ ; Pein isn’t doing anything now that would be even slightly unpleasant, on the contrary: he gives in, opens to him, fully trusting.

Slightly increased breathing, trembling and closed eyes; Pein seems so fragile beneath his hands, and it somehow brings a bitter feeling.

_Pein is actually much stronger than him._

Kakuzu forces himself not to think about what happened before; not to think about how easily Pein’s hands, now clutching his shoulders, broke his bones; about how his blood looked on Pein’s face.

“Please,” Pein’s voice is quiet and almost pleading, “trust me.”

He pulls him closer, pressing against him without any shame; his skin is still cold but seems slightly warmer than before.

It’s so strange to Kakuzu that Pein trusts him.

If it were him, he wouldn’t appear so defenseless before someone he’d almost killed.

But Kakuzu will never dare to hurt Pein—no matter what he does to him, even a hundred times worse.

Pein doesn’t do this out of hate; not because he _wants_ to hurt; but because he can’t express his affection in a different way.

Perhaps _love_.

Kakuzu knows that he loves Pein; he wants to speak about it every second, but, unable to express it, he just silently kisses him—his lips, his face, his neck, his whole body—trying at least like this to convey all that he feels.

Pein shudders when Kakuzu settles between his spread legs, stroking his thighs lightly; but doesn’t stop him, instead reaching out and entwining his hand in his hair, and Kakuzu looks up at him questioningly.

“No, no, it’s alright. Go on,” it sounds like a request—and Kakuzu goes on.

Pein barely makes any sound, only sharp ragged breaths, occasionally breaking into quiet moans; but his body speaks for itself when he arches, unable to control the shiver, and his fingers tug at Kakuzu’s hair painfully. It’s enough—to know that he likes this.

Afterwards, Pein embraces him, holding tight as if wanting to never let go; keeps repeating for some reason, “forgive me,” closes his eyes, allowing Kakuzu to kiss him, touch him—however he wants.

For what, Kakuzu thinks distraughtly, not taking his eyes off Pein’s face—he looks so _impossibly_ beautiful now.

Pein is still his god who for some strange reason returns his feelings, unworthy of even being noticed.

Whatever Pein does, it’s still too small of a price for being allowed to stay by his side.

And if someone should be asking for forgiveness, it’s Kakuzu.

For not being what Pein deserves.

_“I believe you.”_

Sometimes faith alone is not enough; Pein’s self-control doesn’t last long.

It happens suddenly: his embrace turns into a steel grip, and his hands grip too tight and for too long for it to be an accident.

His look changes, too.

No sign of warmth; only cold rage.

Not directed at him—but nowhere, just because Pein _can_.

And resisting him is virtually impossible.

“What are you... doing,” Kakuzu manages to say—he is only able to push Pein away, as harming him is still not something he’d ever do.

For a moment, Pein’s eyes flash with unfamiliar anger, almost a desire to kill; but almost immediately this emotion gives way to realization, and he instantly steps back himself.

“No,” he exhales. “It’s not what I...”

Kakuzu closes his eyes, trying to comprehend what just happened.

The fact that Pein stopped seems unbelievable but also reassuring at the same time; even if not completely.

“It’s alright.” Kakuzu doesn’t let him turn away, pulling him into an embrace. “Pein-sama.”

Even though they are so close now, he still tries to distance himself from Pein—even if only by words.

Pein’s shoulders tremble slightly, just like his voice.

“I told you I’d never do that again—”

“You didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t.

Perhaps— _perhaps_ —Kakuzu wasn’t wrong in trusting him.

Pein stopped this time.

_There is no reason to be afraid._

_It’s fine._

Trusting him completely is too difficult now; but letting him go is twice as difficult.

“Kakuzu,” Pein says, barely audibly. “Why are you still staying? Why don’t you leave—you see that I...”

_Because I don’t want to lose you._

_I love you._

_You are my god._

Any of these answers is correct—and none is good enough.

“I thought it was obvious,” Kakuzu replies. “I need you. Whatever you do, I— will always stay by your side.”

“You are insane,” Pein moves away, looking at him with sorrow and tenderness.

“Perhaps,” Kakuzu doesn’t argue.

He takes Pein’s cold hands into his own, brings them to his lips, kissing thin fingers; Pein shudders but allows him this impossibly foolish gesture.

“Why,” he says only, softly, almost reassuring. “Don’t, it’s too much... I—” he doesn’t manage to finish as Kakuzu pulls him closer, mouth pressing against his in a desperately passionate kiss.

Pein freezes for a moment before responding—but he does respond, and this makes Kakuzu almost suffocate—this desire just to be near, closer, never let go.

_It truly is insanity, but divided between the two of them—it’s beautiful._

***

Cool fingers touch his face carefully, brushing away his long hair—the touch is tender and subtle, but Kakuzu still instinctively moves away.

Pein looks at him, confused and somewhat concerned.

“What is it?” he asks; his hand is still _so close_.

Kakuzu is silent, not looking at him.

It’s not that Pein’s actions were unpleasant; on the contrary, and he didn’t want to stop him.

But still, this irrational anxiety which is so close to fear doesn’t leave; doesn’t let him simply enjoy this closeness.

Some part of Kakuzu is still not convinced that Pein will not hurt him—that his hand is not going to strike.

_As it did before._

“Did I do something wrong?” Pein asks softly.

Kakuzu finds the strength to shake his head.

Not now; Pein hasn’t done anything that would give any reason for this reaction.

In truth, he hasn’t for a while—but still.

“You don’t trust me,” Pein says half-questioningly.

“It’s not about that.” Kakuzu closes his eyes. He wants Pein to touch him again—yet fears it. “I will do whatever you order me to. Tell me to die and I will die for you.” Pein flinches upon hearing his words but stays silent. “But now...” he doesn’t really know himself what he means. “It’s complicated.”

There’s understanding in Pein’s eyes.

“You are afraid,” he says quietly. “That I will hurt you.”

Kakuzu doesn’t say a word, trying to avoid meeting his gaze; but Pein doesn’t need it—he _understands_. Without words or explanations.

Pein sighs and reaches out again, stroking his cheek carefully. This time Kakuzu doesn’t jerk away, freezes in place—and eventually relaxes, giving into the gentle caress.

Pein is not going to harm him.

_It’s alright._

_It’s not._

“Don’t, please,” Pein looks at him, a strange sorrow in his eyes. “I know I do not deserve your trust... but I don’t want to lose it.”

“You won’t,” Kakuzu manages to say. “I believe you. It’s fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Pein frowns.

“I do not.” Kakuzu closes his eyes.

Pein shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

He probably sees right through him.

It’s not that Kakuzu doesn’t _believe_ ; but doubt—fear—is still there.

“If I ever do something like that again...” Pein keeps looking at him. “Stop me. Even if you harm me, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to—” _die_ , “—get hurt.”

_The same thing._

Kakuzu nods silently.

A great advice—one he’ll never follow.

Not even because he doesn’t want to—he _can’t._

“Stop me”; as if it’s that easy.

Pein is stronger than him.

An attempt to push him away is followed by a single gesture; and Kakuzu doesn’t even manage to realize what’s going on as he’s slammed into the wall—with such force that his bones seem to crack; and he slides down to the floor, trying to inhale, while Pein comes closer.

It was foolish to expect anything else.

He’s _too_ powerful.

Kakuzu raises his head—and sees only cold in Pein’s eyes.

“Are you hurt now? Show me,” Pein leans down, so close his lips almost brush against his cheek—but he doesn’t care to show even such fake affection anymore, he only speaks slowly, and his voice seems to tremble with anticipation. “I want to see _how_ hurt you are.”

Kakuzu exhales through gritted teeth but says nothing.

If there’s something that he will never do, it’s scream and beg like Pein wants. As if there’s still some pride left in him; but it’s foolish. He hardly remembers about pride, allowing Pein all this.

“Beg me. Cry. Show me your pain.”

Just the thought is sickening and almost laughable; but there’s something in these words, the way Pein says them, that awakens fear.

For the first time in too many years.

Madness clouds Pein’s gaze as he twists and breaks his wrist—bone shards tear through the skin, warm blood trickles down his fingers; but Kakuzu still stares into Pein’s eyes stubbornly, still silent.

He wants to close his eyes, but Pein likes it when he looks at him—likes to search for something only he knows in the mix of emotions.

The metal rod pierces his hands, pinning them to the wall—it’s impossible to move, to run, but as if Kakuzu ever wanted it.

As if he could run even if he was allowed to.

All he can do is obey Pein’s look and touch; real god or not, he has _godlike_ power over him.

Pein’s hands slide along his body, feeling the fresh wounds—unpleasant, but familiar; how many times he had to endure much worse pain.

Pein looks at him with strange curiosity; almost admiringly, as though there’s something truly amazing in front of him.

Can anything about him be amazing?

But Pein sees _something_.

He needs Kakuzu for some reason.

_It’s worth any pain._

_It’s madness._

_If he wanted to die so badly, wouldn’t it be easier to just slit his own throat?_

He doesn’t actually want to die; but he’s unable to do anything.

Almost gently, Pein puts his cold hands on his neck, squeezes so hard that colorful circles start to float before his eyes.

He can’t breathe.

Pein’s face blurs away, just like everything around.

Kakuzu doesn’t resist; losing consciousness now is better than prolonging this torture.

A light slap across his face tears him out of his daze; Kakuzu opens his eyes, and all his strength is barely enough to keep silent—the pain overwhelms him.

He realizes vaguely that his hands are free now, but it only makes things worse—each careless movement causes pain.

Thick, nauseating smell of blood seems to get under his skin, and he probably won’t get rid of it for a long time after.

“It’s not over yet,” Pein says.

Cold hand touches his forehead, brushing away his messy hair.

“Pein-sama,” Kakuzu has no strength for anything else and just nods.

He wonders how much more he can take.

Probably not much.

Pein leans close and kisses him carefully, slowly—almost tenderly.

Kakuzu shudders, confused—but responds, giving into the unexpected caress, closes his eyes, trying to focus on the kiss—and ignore the pain, ignore what just happened.

Pein pulls away and looks at him; and again Kakuzu thinks he sees regret and guilt in this look.

It’s almost as though everything is normal. The realization that with each time the line between normality and insanity is getting thinner and thinner is... frightening.

Pein shifts from one state to another almost imperceptibly, and it’s hard to know what to expect from him in the next second.

“Forgive me.” Pein strokes his hair, and the genuine concern in his voice feels so strange after what happened, “How are you?”

Kakuzu only jerks his shoulder, immediately wincing from the pain— _fine_.

Bearable.

Throughout his life, he’s had to endure far more serious injuries.

Now it’s only a little worse because he _allows_ Pein to do it.

The consequences of a rough night—it sounds almost funny—are still too obvious in the next morning, despite the hastily healed wounds.

Neither Kakuzu nor Pein is a good medic.

They both are much better at causing pain; and Pein is especially good at it.

Hidan notices his condition—and just can’t keep his mouth shut.

“You look like shit.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Kakuzu replies dryly.

“I’m serious,” he doesn’t stop. “What, were we attacked at night, but I slept through everything? You really look like a fucking zombie now. About to fall apart into pieces.”

His stupid comparison doesn’t even make Kakuzu smile; only his headache grows stronger.

Hidan doesn’t need to know anything, but he won’t leave him alone so simply—he never does; and Kakuzu has to answer.

“Just a sparring session with Leader.”

“Didn’t you have anything better to do?” Hidan grins and finally loses interest in the topic.

Why did he even ask; who even needs these useless conversations.

It’s annoying but doesn’t bother him as much; all that Kakuzu wants now is to stay alone and have at least a little rest—as much as the dull pain in his body lets him.

But they still need to complete the mission.

Pein could have sent someone else if Kakuzu asked; in fact, he suggested just that, but Kakuzu isn’t going to show his weakness in front of him.

As time passes, it becomes more and more like madness.

Desperately clinging to Pein, forgetting about everything, even the basic survival instinct, Kakuzu begins to think that it’s not love—but an obsession, a sick dependency; for there’s no other reason to keep enduring this.

At times, he can’t help but shudder when Pein’s cold fingers stroke his face gently; and guilt and understanding in his eyes make it worse.

“I’m sorry,” when another outburst is over, Pein is always so unusually emotional. “Forgive me.”

As if Kakuzu could _not_ forgive; could answer differently.

He wants to believe that Pein’s words are sincere—and perhaps they are.

It’s not his fault that he’s unable to control himself.

But it is Kakuzu’s fault for not being able to simply leave, break this bond that’s tied him down.

Pein never speaks directly about any feelings; but a simple ‘I need you’ is enough for Kakuzu; it’s honest, and his tone conveys the emotion better than any grand words could have.

And, perhaps, only for moments like this Kakuzu continues gritting his teeth and enduring the torture; after all, he’s been through worse things, he’s been through death—this thought almost makes him laugh. Who knows—one day Pein might really kill him.

And Kakuzu isn’t as sure as he was before if it will be worth it.

“Are you alright?” Pein seems genuinely concerned.

It’s too difficult to believe in it—that he cares, that he’s even a little bit worried about his condition—his life.

He still wants to believe—that Pein doesn’t actually want to hurt him, that he tries to control this strange craving.

Though it doesn’t look like it.

Kakuzu doesn’t reply—what could he possibly say?

Don’t go, don’t leave me—it all sounds just pathetic, and he doubts he can control his voice when he’s barely holding back a pained groan.

Perhaps— _go to hell_ ; but if Pein leaves, then there’s definitely no sense in all that.

Kakuzu wants him to stay.

 _Not like this_.

That’s enough.

Get lost.

 _Don’t leave me_.

Kakuzu doesn’t understand himself.

It must be the pain—clouding his mind, not letting him think straight.

It hurts _so much_.

It’s difficult to say for sure, but his arms are definitely broken—just like his ribs and, it seems, his legs. He’s had worse; but right now he feels like it cannot get any worse, and he’s silent only because he barely has the strength to stay conscious.

It seems like nonsense.

Mostly because Kakuzu still doesn’t try to resist.

Despite being used to pain, he doesn’t enjoy it; and he’d never willingly let someone hurt him.

But Pein is the exception. Has always been.

Sometimes Kakuzu thinks that for the opportunity to be near him, to touch him—he can handle any pain.

Even when he almost kills him.

This thought somehow only hurts more.

“Forgive me,” Pein says quietly; seemingly sincere.

He takes his hand carefully, and it’s a miracle Kakuzu manages not to make any sound at this moment. A faint green glow envelops Pein’s hand, healing the fracture; a nervous laughter tears out of his chest—how worse would things be if Pein didn’t know basic healing techniques. Eventually the pain fades but doesn’t go away completely—though it’s better than nothing. Kakuzu remembers about his own technique finally, forces himself to concentrate and let the threads stitch the deepest wounds, while Pein strokes his hair and whispers something inaudible.

Kakuzu doesn’t listen to him—doesn’t want to.

The wounds will still take long to heal, adding even more scars—though it’s the last thing he should be concerned about.

He should be happy he’s still alive.

Though it would be easier to die.

“I’m sorry,” Pein strokes his shoulder lightly, and Kakuzu instinctively tries to jerk away—run as far as possible, _away from him, anywhere_. “What are you...” his voice sounds almost desperate now for some reason, and guilty again. “What am I doing to you.”

 _Only what I allow_ , Kakuzu wants to reply but only chuckles bitterly and raises his arms, holding Pein—the move makes pain surge through his body, but he doesn’t think he cares.

It really is stupid, and he realizes it—but still continues, repeatedly asking Pein to stay with him—and neither of them can stop this twisted game.

A game—because he agrees to it.

Even though he only thinks, ‘enough, no more’ each second.

Kakuzu can’t even say anything, but Pein holds him close, and nothing else matters.

He’s here, at least; it’s enough to not think about anything else.

_One day, Pein will certainly kill him._

***

Kakuzu keeps telling himself that each time is going to be the last; but it repeats again and again.

He doesn’t want to ruin what’s between them.

Doesn’t want to lose Pein—or this twisted delight that he feels when near him.

Pein is unpredictable; in one minute he’s switching from tenderness to uncontrollable rage, and the warmth in his eyes gives way to emptiness which leaves no chance.

It’s difficult to predict his actions, almost impossible, and the only weak consolation is the fact that it’s not Kakuzu provoking him; the reason is Pein and his madness.

Which he hides so well on normal days.

Pein always stops before things get too serious; but they probably have a different definition of ‘serious’.

When it’s over, Pein looks terrified upon seeing his body covered in blood, reaches out and freezes, not daring to touch, to harm more; and Kakuzu looks at him, trying to read something into his eyes—perhaps another _fake_ consolation—and repeats hoarsely, “I’m fine.”

Which he’s not.

In fact, these outbursts don’t happen often; and so far, despite this, the time he spends with Pein is worth any pain.

But the rarity of these episodes is outweighed by his increasing insanity.

It gets worse with each time.

_As though with each day Pain loses his mind even more._

At times Kakuzu wonders why he is still alive.

Like now, sprawled on the floor underneath his indifferent gaze, choking on his own blood, unable to move—and fully aware of his helplessness.

“Do you want me to stop?” Pein asks calmly, running a hand, slick with blood, along his cheek.

Kakuzu can’t make a single sound, only nods, finally forgetting about pride.

Everyone has their limit—and it seems like he’s reached his.

“Then ask me to stop,” Pein’s voice softens a little. “I don’t think it hurts that much—you’re not saying anything.”

“Pein-sama,” Kakuzu exhales hoarsely, but he has no strength for anything more.

It’s disgusting, unbearable.

 _Please, stop_.

But not aloud, never, because it’s humiliating enough to let him do whatever he wants.

Pein grasps his shoulders, lifting him up—and slams his head into the stone floor. Everything blurs before his eyes, and Kakuzu hisses through gritted teeth, feeling blood pool under his head.

It’s still tolerable in itself, but combined with the pain from other injuries, it makes it hard to hold back.

“Like this,” Pein says almost gently, “Don’t be silent. If you’re hurt—say it. Scream, cry—I want to hear it.”

Right now Kakuzu does want to scream, but it won’t do any good.

The taste of blood makes him sick, Pein’s face is blurred, like in a dream—or an illusion; let it be an illusion, it would be better to wake up to find out that he’s about to die at the hand of the enemy, than to believe that Pein is actually doing this to him.

 _You’ve been warned_ , his inner voice seems to be mocking him.

And it’s true—Pein was honest with him.

Kakuzu has made a wrong choice—and is paying for it.

Trusting someone, relying on anyone other than himself is stupid—and leads to disappointment and, at worst, to death.

Pein’s hands slide across his chest, pressing against his ribs with seemingly impossible force.

The cracking of his own breaking bones almost deafens him, the shards cut through the skin, pierce the lungs, making him cough and choke on the blood again—and Pein deepens the wounds, as if enjoying his reaction, as if wanting to see and hear _more_.  
And to be honest, Kakuzu doesn’t know how he manages to stay silent now.

If not for the threads going through his entire body, he’d have gone mad from the pain; but because of that, the sensations are slightly dulled, though still hard to bear.

 _Hurts_ —is all he can think about right now.

He turns away, trying to breathe steadily, focus on anything but the pain.

Seeing Pein is unbearable.

“No, no,” Pein grips his chin, forcing him to face him. “I told you. Look at me. _Just_ at me.”

As always, there is no choice; as always, he has to look.

Pein smiles—but there’s nothing real in this smile; just a grimace, distorting his face, making it completely inhuman.

“Like this. Look.”

His cold fingers almost gently touch the open wound, slide inside—the pain makes it impossible to breathe.

Everything inside screams— _kill_ and _run_ —but Kakuzu still cannot even think of harming Pein; and it’s already too late to run.

_It was too late from the very beginning._

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers, desperate, hating himself now—but he no longer can withstand this torture. “Pein, please, stop. I... can’t.”

It hurts _too much._

All that Kakuzu sees in Pein’s eyes is indifference.

The world explodes with pain—even stronger than before, though can it really get any worse?

After the pain, there’s only darkness.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Kakuzu half-opens his eyes to see someone’s face above him, but his vision is so blurred he can’t make out the features. The voice seems vaguely familiar, but he can’t recognize it.

Though the next words make it clear.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Hidan says when he doesn’t get a response. “Though I’ve known that for a while.”

 _What are you doing here_ , Kakuzu wants to ask, but the voice doesn’t obey him; the pain doesn’t let him concentrate on anything.

“I’ll think of something,” these words, coupled with his carefree tone, are not encouraging in the slightest. “And you should think what you’d do without me—maybe you shouldn’t always tell me to fuck off?”

_What does it matter, just leave._

Kakuzu can neither move nor speak; and whatever Hidan is going to do, it won’t make it worse.

Without much care, Hidan lifts him up; another flash of pain almost blinds him, and his consciousness fades away.

When Kakuzu comes to his senses again, the first thing he notices is that the pain isn’t as strong anymore.

And he seems to be able to move.

“Finally,” Hidan says casually, as if he sees nothing unusual.

Kakuzu slowly sits up, shakes his head. His thoughts are a mess—it’s hard to understand what’s happening. Why is he still alive? What is Hidan doing here? Where is Pein?

“So, I suppose the mission’s canceled,” Hidan mutters. “Though I’ve been dying for a vacation, why don’t we ever have days off? The pay is pathetic, and we can’t even get any rest.”

“Why are you talking about canceling the mission?” Kakuzu finally manages to part his dry lips.

To be honest, he doesn’t even remember that they had any mission.

“Well,” Hidan gives him a skeptical look, “I doubt you’re able to go anywhere now, much less to fight. Though if you want to, who am I to stop you? I’ve patched you up a bit, you’re not dying anymore, so it’ll do.”

“Didn’t you have anything better to do?” Kakuzu turns to him.

Hidan looks strange—the way he’s watching him; but Kakuzu isn’t in the condition to think about it now. Perhaps he’s overthinking this.

Perhaps all that’s happening now is nothing more than a weird dream.

“Well, if you’d prefer me to leave you like that—I can break some of your bones again,” Hidan offers, grinning. “Enjoy yourself and die.”

Despite the situation, Kakuzu chuckles.

No, nothing strange, same old Hidan—being himself.

“Can you stand?” he asks.

Reaches out—and it seems to be a sincere desire to help, but Kakuzu immediately jerks back, avoiding the contact.

His own reaction startles him—it’s Hidan, there’s no point in being afraid of him; but the chilling fear still creeps inside, despite the voice of reason.

“I don’t need your help,” he says with an effort.

He rises to his feet, and it’s hard; the pain is still there, only a little more bearable.

Hidan looks at him with—for some reason—concern, but then shrugs, as if saying, ‘whatever’.

“What happened, anyway?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, shit, here we go again,” Hidan mutters. “No, I’m not trying to make you talk, keep quiet if you want to.”

Kakuzu nods.

The fewer questions, the better.

“But still, it’s fucked up,” Hidan continues. “I know Pein is crazy, but it’s fucked up.”

Kakuzu grimaces, hearing his name; he doesn’t want to remember at all.

Hidan doesn’t notice his reaction or doesn’t care; he starts walking to the exit, not shutting up, and Kakuzu follows him.

“What were you two doing? It doesn’t look like a training,” Hidan glances back but, getting no response, continues.

It’s somewhat annoying; but Kakuzu doesn’t really care.

As if it will change anything, for better or worse.

Let him talk.

Kakuzu doesn’t even have to listen to him.

“Was he testing new torture methods on you? Not rational at all, he should’ve picked me for this—I even heal faster. Or what the hell was that? Nah, fuck it, I don’t care.”

Kakuzu barely listens to Hidan’s hasty speech; his thoughts are preoccupied with something else. For the most part, he’s trying to concentrate on not falling—pain and fatigue barely let him take a step.

He feels completely empty, but there are no more emotions.

It’s strange.

Whatever.

Hidan keeps talking, and Kakuzu vaguely notes that he’s too nervous; on the other hand, he never cared about Hidan’s problems, why should he start caring now?

His vision darkens, his body feels disgustingly weak.

Another step, and his knees give in; Kakuzu doesn’t even try to stay on his feet.

He hears Hidan cursing loudly, “Fuck! You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

And then he loses consciousness again.

“Tell me, why the hell do I even bother with you?” Hidan asks and immediately adds, “Don’t answer, it was a rhetorical question.”

Kakuzu doesn’t hurry to open his eyes; to be honest, he’d prefer to be unconscious again—he doesn’t want to talk at all.

“You know, I really want to punch you now,” Hidan says thoughtfully.

Nothing new—and no need for any reaction.

Kakuzu keeps silent.

_Just go and leave me alone._

“But you’ve already got it pretty bad, so I won’t.”

Unfortunately, mind reading isn’t included in the small list of Hidan’s talents.

“Hey, I see that you’re awake and can hear me. Say something.”

_Say something—and Pein’s face appears before his eyes; indifferent gaze, twisted smile._

_The pain feels so real._

It’s like a reflex—Kakuzu jerks up, holding out his hands—only then he opens his eyes, realizing Pein is not here.

There’s only Hidan, looking at him with wide eyes, clearly confused by such reaction.

Kakuzu is confused by it as well; but the panic still doesn’t leave.

It’s _just_ Hidan.

He’s not going to harm him.

“Jashin, give me strength,” Hidan groans. “I’m so done with this!”

Kakuzu exhales slowly, forcing himself to relax—as much as possible.

“I was starting to think you really were going to die,” Hidan says with a smirk, but his look stays too serious.

“You can dream,” Kakuzu replies weakly. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? How about at least a fucking thank you?”

Hidan has the right to be angry, but Kakuzu isn’t going to admit it—more out of habit.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

Hidan doesn’t say anything to that, only hisses something angrily through his gritted teeth.

Kakuzu looks away from him—perhaps he’ll finally shut up.

But that would be too good.

“Who the fuck cares if you did or not! Tell me what the hell is going on.”

“First, it’s none of your business. Second, you...” Kakuzu shudders, remembering, “won’t understand anyway.”

“I’m so fucking done with you,” somehow, Hidan really seems tired now. “I’m not just asking. I want to help.”

“I don’t need that,” Kakuzu replies. “I... appreciate what you did, but the details don’t concern you. Why do you even care?”

Hidan frowns, puzzled, as if he didn’t even think about it; though when did he ever think of anything? It’s ridiculous to expect him to be able to justify his actions.

“Well, let’s say I actually give a shit about you. Besides, if you die, who’s gonna be my partner? That idiot Tobi? Nah, thanks. Though,” something strange flashes in his eyes, “if I understand correctly, even fucking Tobi is a hundred times smarter than you!”

Unexpectedly even for himself, Kakuzu can’t hold back a chuckle.

Hidan is not that wrong.

“If you’ve figured something out already, what else do you want me to say?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Hidan exhales. “Maybe I’m wrong. I fucking _want_ to be wrong, you can’t be that stupid? Or can you? Jashin, what have I done to deserve this?”

“Nobody asked you...”

“I’m not talking to you!”

“And to whom, to Jashin?” Kakuzu tries to sound skeptical, though in truth, he doesn’t care. “Your god is nothing more than a fiction.”

“You don’t know anything,” Hidan clenches his fists but quickly relaxes. “Hey, your ‘god’ is definitely real—did that make it better?”

He means Pein, which is so painfully obvious, and Kakuzu has no answer; he doesn’t want to think about Pein at all, but Hidan hits where it hurts most, opening fresh wounds, and he feels so sickeningly helpless again.

Kakuzu lowers his head, pressing his hands to his temples—perhaps Hidan will be smart enough to understand he’d better leave, that he doesn’t want to discuss it—or talk at all.

It seems like he understands something; he stays by Kakuzu’s side, but at least he’s silent.

Though it’d be better if he left.

Kakuzu feels sick with himself and his weakness, and Hidan’s presence only makes it worse.

***

“You’re going to Pein again,” Hidan doesn’t even ask—he states that, standing in his way.

“None of your business.” Kakuzu walks past him, avoiding the contact.

“Idiot,” Hidan grabs his hand. “You’re fucking crazy. What are you gonna talk to him about?”

The way he’s gripping his wrist makes Kakuzu’s insides twist—and again he has to tell himself that Hidan poses no threat, at the very least because he’s weaker.

“I don’t care what you think.” Kakuzu jerks his hand away. “I told you to stay out of it.”

“And I don’t care what you told me,” Hidan grins. “You wanna die so bad?”

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, simply pushing him away.

He’s not going to listen to him. If Hidan suddenly decided to play kind, whatever; he won’t encourage him.

None of this concerns Hidan at all.

“Hey.” Kakuzu doesn’t want to turn back but for some reason does it.

Hidan looks at him, still strangely serious, without a hint of mockery.

For a moment, Kakuzu thinks that he might be sincere in his intention to help.

Even though he can’t.

And Kakuzu doesn’t need help from anyone—especially from him.

“I’ll kill him,” Hidan says calmly. “If he does anything else—anything—I’ll just fucking kill him.”

Kakuzu would laugh if he had the strength for it. Pein will deal with Hidan in a second if he wants to, and immortality won’t be of much help to him. What arrogance.

And what’s the point?

Hidan is just a hopeless fool.

Kakuzu probably is too—because these words make him feel just slightly better.

“Leader-sama.”

It’s difficult to sound indifferent, even more difficult to keep a straight face—at least the mask helps with the latter.

And even so, he can’t shake the feeling that Pein sees right through him.

“Kakuzu.”

Though Pein looks _unfazed_ , there’s uncertainty and guilt in his voice. They haven’t spoken since their last meeting, which Kakuzu doesn’t want to remember at all—perhaps Pein doesn’t, too.

He must understand as well that after what happened, nothing will be the same.

“I think we should talk.”

Pein nods, allowing him to continue; he is silent, as if afraid to say something wrong.

But words won’t make it worse.

There is nothing left.

“You know that... I care a lot about you, Leader-sama.” Unwittingly, Kakuzu notes how beautiful Pein is when he allows emotions—surprise now—to show on his face.

But if he thinks about it for too long, he won’t be able to end this.

“I know.” Pein looks at him. “You’re shutting me out again. Like I’m a stranger to you.”

It sounds even laughable; but no less painful.

Not a stranger, no—still the closest person; but letting himself address him so intimately is too dangerous.

“It’s better if we end... our relationship.”

He can’t avoid an awkward pause; the whole situation still seems unreal.

There is no anger or confusion in Pein’s eyes, only sad understanding.

Not that it makes it any easier.

“I’m not afraid of death, Pein,” against his will, Pein’s _name_ escapes his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I _want_ to die.”

Pein smiles, strained and bitter, but nods again.

“Well... I suppose it has been a long time coming.”

“I am sorry,” Kakuzu says quietly.

He doesn’t know what else to add.

“You shouldn’t be. All this... is my fault alone. I cannot change,” Pein looks away, “but what I _can_ do is to protect you from myself. I should have done that a long time ago. It seems you were smarter than me.”

“Not much smarter if I didn’t leave after the first time,” Kakuzu grins wryly. “But I don’t regret it.”

And it’s honest—he doesn’t regret; he’s almost certain he’d repeat it again—life definitely doesn’t teach him anything.

But he isn’t able to continue _now_.

It’s as if Pein wants to say something else—and he does, after a short silence.

“Wait,” and steps towards him.

He reaches out to touch his hand, and Kakuzu can’t help but shudder—there is nothing to be afraid of now, but it seems it’ll take time to get used to the fact that not every touch causes pain.

“I always...” Pein pauses but continues, “I love you. I always will. No matter what.”

It’s the first time Kakuzu hears this from Pein; but he isn’t happy at all—he doesn’t care.

It makes no difference.

Only hurts a little.

Kakuzu nods silently.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get rid of his feelings for Pein, or they will continue poisoning him from within.

Still, it’s the only right way out of this.

Pein looks him in the eye for some more time—and lightly squeezes his hand before letting go. He most likely understands that there is no point in continuing the conversation; they’ve said all they could.

It’s over—and for some reason Kakuzu doesn’t feel relief, only strange emptiness.

It was easier than he thought.

And at the same time too difficult.


	2. guarded and weak

“Konan.” Kakuzu is somewhat surprised to see her, but still it takes him some effort to hold back a sigh of relief; he’s not ready for another meeting with Pein so soon. For a moment, he feels something like interest— _where is he_ —but it fades rather soon.

He doesn’t care.

What matters is that he’s not _here_.

“What the hell?” Hidan looks around, puzzled. “Where’s Pein?”

“Pein is busy today,” Konan says, no hint of emotion in her voice. “I will explain the details of the mission. I hope you don’t have any problems with this, Hidan?”

Hidan grimaces but shakes his head—no problem, of course.

Konan is not Pein, but she, too, is able to inspire respect. At least her presence doesn’t make Kakuzu wish he was on the other side of the world.

Kakuzu catches her intent gaze and looks into her eyes—there’s pity in them, and _of course_ she knows; it would be surprising if she didn’t, if Pein hadn’t told her.

And she _pities_ him—the sheer thought is disgusting; he feels weak—worthless under her gaze.

He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, even if it is sincere, even if Konan doesn’t think of mocking him.

The sooner this is forgotten the better.

Konan calmly tells them about the upcoming mission, and all the while she’s looking at Kakuzu with the same sickening pity.

This makes anger flash within—mostly at himself.

For appearing weak.

The mission doesn’t seem complicated; they only need to get rid of one of the Akatsuki’s informants who’s dangerously close to being discovered and is already useless to the organization, being more of a threat. Nothing that they haven’t done dozens of times; Hidan even seems disappointed.

“I was hoping we’d do something more interesting,” he drawls. “Shit, I’m so tired of this.”

Kakuzu says nothing to that, and Hidan, meeting no response, falls silent.

For a while they walk in silence—and this short moment of quiet is good.

At least the day doesn’t seem as bad as the morning.

But still as bad the last week.

It would be much easier to deal with all this on his own, and Hidan’s presence in his life is more annoying than ever. It’s not so much what he does or even says—it’s just that he exists.

Doesn’t stop reminding.

“Careful,” Kakuzu says, irritated, when Hidan accidentally grazes his shoulder, walking too close.

He prefers to ignore Hidan’s puzzled look, even though he understands that this reaction is ridiculous.

But each time Hidan touches him—which is almost always accidental, with no clear intent—Kakuzu doesn’t manage to fight the irrational fear.

In such moments, it takes him an incredible effort to hide the growing panic; but for now, he manages to do it.

Sometimes Kakuzu envies Hidan’s exceptional regeneration, and now is one of those cases.

Even after a while, the wounds still bother him, with dull ache spreading through his body whenever he moves too sharply; and it’s noticeable, which is the worst. Kakuzu hates any show of weakness, especially when it comes to him.

“What is it?” Hidan asks when Kakuzu stops, trying to steady his breathing—and to ignore the pain.

“Nothing,” he says.

He closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything else—and flinches when Hidan’s voice sounds too close.

“I see it’s really bad. I still don’t understand how you didn’t die then.”

“Shut up.”

“Fuck, you _look_ like you’re about to die now.”

Kakuzu opens his eyes to see Hidan looking at him with strange concern, and it’s surprising—unnerving.

Why is he looking like that?

“I’m fine.” Kakuzu averts his gaze.

“Like hell you are,” Hidan isn’t going to calm down. “We’ve barely left Ame, and you’re already like this. You’ll only get in my way. Or you’ll really die—after all that shit.”

The realization of his weakness grows stronger, just like anger at Hidan with his inability just to _mind his own business_.

“I assure you,” Kakuzu says through his gritted teeth, “what happened did not affect my ability to fight. Leave me alone.”

“Spare me the tough act,” Hidan frowns. “I don’t need you to faint somewhere in the middle of the way—or in the middle of a battle. I’d have to complete the mission by myself, how fucking great would that be.”

“You won’t have to.” Kakuzu exhales wearily.

It’s impossibly annoying; why can’t he understand when it’s better to shut up.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright?” Hidan asks.

Kakuzu nods silently. Hidan angrily shakes his head at that and steps towards him, holding out his hand for some reason—but it doesn’t matter if he wants to help or do the opposite.

All the same, in a moment he finds himself on the ground a couple feet away.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hidan snaps, getting up. “Don’t need no help, too proud for that, asshole?”

“Do not ever touch me,” Kakuzu says slowly, clearly.

Doesn’t look at Hidan, concentrating to not show his fear with a sound or a gesture.

This dark, heavy feeling, awaking the memories; some moments Kakuzu doesn’t want to remember at all.

His sickening helplessness, when he was lying under the indifferent gaze, and cold hands tore the heart out from his open chest.

_He even hated his almost-immortality then—the inability to die easily._

Hidan isn’t the kind of person to do something like that; even if he wants to hurt him, he’ll go about it the usual way: picking up a fight, attacking him, and it won’t be difficult to deflect his blow. Perhaps a fight will even help Kakuzu clear his head; and Hidan definitely isn’t someone he should fear.

But the fear still doesn’t leave, and Hidan isn’t helping at all.

For some reason he has started touching him too often.

Or perhaps he always did that, and Kakuzu simply never noticed—never paid attention, because before someone’s touch didn’t seem to be so dangerous.

Kakuzu thinks that it’s about the fact that Hidan sees his reaction, no matter how hard he tries to hide it; and so he goes further, provoking him, testing his boundaries—when will he finally lose it?

Kakuzu isn’t going to give him such satisfaction, but it’s getting harder to hold back.

“Fuck, okay, okay!” Hidan says, still angry. “I’m so fucking done...”

 _For once we agree on something_ , Kakuzu thinks but says nothing.

***

“Shit, how much longer are we supposed to walk?” Hidan mutters under his breath, but still loud enough. “We haven’t stopped for the whole day.”

“Shut up and keep going,” Kakuzu replies without even thinking—it’s somewhat like a reflex. He has answers to most of Hidan’s repetitive complaints.

And of course, none of these answers can make Hidan shut up.

“I’m tired as hell,” he goes on.

“So?”

“Why don’t we stop and take a break?” he tries to sound pleading, though without much effort. “You have no idea how sick I am of this!”

“No.” Kakuzu forces himself to hold back. “We’ve wasted enough time on your stupid rituals... the sooner we finish the mission, the better.”

“I’m doing these rituals for Jashin-sama!” As expected, Hidan immediately riles up at the criticism of his religion. “A heathen like shouldn’t dare call them ‘stupid’! Shit, you’re pissing me off.”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu says. His patience is wearing thin.

Of course, if a simple request worked, Hidan wouldn’t be himself.

“Try and make me!” Hidan snarls.

The first impulse is to punch him, knock this annoying attitude out of him, silence him; Kakuzu turns to him, raising his hand, just like always—

And stops.

Something doesn’t let him finish the movement.

He remembers too clearly the moments when Pein watched him suffocate without any emotion; when a light touch turned into a steel grip, breaking the bones.

Hidan doesn’t expect tenderness from him, and it’s foolish to compare him to himself; but the _feeling_ must be similar. When someone you trust hurts you, physical pain is nothing compared to what’s going on inside.

Almost for the first time in their partnership, Kakuzu feels something close to guilt for his constant lack of restraint; no matter how insufferable Hidan sometimes was, he didn’t deserve something so...

“What?” Hidan asks, confused. “Why the hell did you stop?”

Kakuzu shakes his head, calling himself a fool; what kind of nonsense is he thinking about.

What does trust have to do with any of this—Hidan doesn’t trust him, hell, he always picks up a fight, mostly out of boredom; it makes no sense.

In any case, his initial anger is gone already.

Kakuzu silently turns away and continues walking.

“And here I was hoping to have some fun!” Hidan sounds almost disappointed, and Kakuzu thinks that perhaps he shouldn’t have held back; but he just couldn’t.

And he _can’t_ bring himself to hit him now.

Hurt him.

It feels _wrong_ —sickening even.

But he doesn’t have time to think about it—he notices that they aren’t alone here.

“Looks like you’ll get your fight after all.” Kakuzu glances at the group of shinobi in front of them.

Konoha-nin—and among them stands the very man Pein ordered them to kill. For a good reason, as it turned out.  
Apparently, the informant decided to cooperate with Konoha, hoping to save his skin. They were lucky to stumble upon each other near the meeting place.

In any case, they need to dispose of them as soon as possible.

“Some fun at last!” As always, Hidan rushes into the fight headfirst.

Kakuzu isn’t going to stop him. Let him have his fun, especially since their opponents don’t seem so strong.

The fight really is ridiculously easy. The only downside is perhaps the fact that they didn’t manage to question their spy; the Konoha shinobi killed him right before the fight, probably for the sake of precaution. He could have known something valuable, something that the Akatsuki could use. Though Konoha also won’t get the information it so desperately wants, which is a consolation enough.

They can be content with that.

The main goal is fulfilled, which is what matters most.

Kakuzu looks at Hidan; he’s rubbing his shoulder, hissing some curses—he actually got injured quite badly, though it didn’t weaken him at all.

And still, his recklessness is annoying—he could’ve gotten his head cut off, which would have been a lot of trouble.

“Come here,” Kakuzu says after a minute of thinking.

Hidan looks around.

“Why?”

“I’ll stitch your wound. Or do you want to keep bleeding?”

“Why, it’ll heal in a couple hours at most.” Hidan doesn’t insist, looking a bit confused.

He is right—his regeneration is incredible.

“And yet it’s faster this way,” Kakuzu says.

It’s the least he can do for Hidan—after everything.

And it’s not that Kakuzu wants to thank him or something, no; but he has a feeling he _should_.

What is he even thinking.

“Well, if you say so,” Hidan doesn’t argue.

He comes closer and turns, letting Kakuzu see the wound. His shoulder is cut open to the bone, and if he was an ordinary person, one would call it a serious wound; but to Hidan, any injury is nothing.

Though it still is painful, judging by the way he flinches and curses quietly when Kakuzu carefully touches his bloodied shoulder.

An uneasy feeling is difficult to ignore; after all, _he’s_ the one touching Hidan, there’s no threat; but despite these rational arguments, Kakuzu still feels uncomfortable.

Black threads neatly stitch the edges of the wound; Kakuzu does it automatically, not even thinking about it, only holding Hidan in place so he doesn’t disrupt the process.

This happens so often that Kakuzu could patch him up even with his eyes closed.

“Done,” he says finally, letting go of him.

Hidan shrugs, touches the fresh stitches and nods to himself, seemingly satisfied with the result.

“Hey, it’s actually much better,” and he turns to Kakuzu. “Thanks.”

Gratitude from Hidan is rare, even more rarely it’s sincere; though it matters little, and Kakuzu just nods.

He expected to feel at least satisfaction from that, but he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel better—and honestly, this routine work isn’t that much of a gratitude; certainly not what Hidan deserves.

Hidan doesn’t rush to at least step aside, and his presence so close keeps making Kakuzu nervous.

It’s better not to think about it—it’s too unpleasant, too painful; if he doesn’t think about it, all will be forgotten in time.

Kakuzu only wants to finish their mission as soon as possible, return to the base—perhaps get some rest.

He doubts he’ll get the opportunity, but still.

“Hey,” Hidan moves closer and _touches_ him.

Grabs his arm for some reason—to catch his attention or do something else, it doesn’t matter.

Panic that Kakuzu has been keeping in all this time rushes over him, and he takes a sharp step back.

_If the grip is too tight, it’s so easy to break an arm, and it hurts—but what hurts more is the look, calm and indifferent._

“No,” Kakuzu exhales, stepping even further away from him.

It sounds so _pathetic_.

Hidan looks at him, puzzled, frozen with his hand outstretched; and there’s something like resentment in his eyes.

“What?”

Kakuzu shakes his head; the image of Pein appears before his eyes again.

_Look at me_

_I want to see your pain_

_If you want me to stop, beg_

“Touch me one more time,” he manages to regain control over his voice, “and I’ll break your arm. At best.”

“Come on then, do it!” Contrary to his own words, Hidan does back away a bit, folding his arms on his chest.

He still looks confused, but also annoyed.

Perhaps, Kakuzu thinks, he should really do that; but just the thought is disgusting. Hidan doesn’t threaten him—it’s just his own twisted perception, and lashing out at him is foolish.

Wrong.

“You’re acting hella weird today,” Hidan mutters, not expecting an answer.

Kakuzu isn’t even going to answer.

Today, there has been too much of everything; and Hidan’s strange behavior led to a logical end.

It’s unpleasant to realize his weakness, even more unpleasant—when it’s so apparent despite all his attempts to control it.

“Tell me what the hell that was.”

Hidan seems worried—not much, but Kakuzu is somehow sure that he won’t leave him alone.

But he has nothing to say.

It’s impossible to explain; it’s not even worth trying.

Hidan won’t understand.

“I don’t like when people touch me,” he says dryly—there’s no sense to go into details.

“Like a phobia?” Hidan asks.

“You could say that.” It’s not the worst explanation.

And perhaps it is true.

“Okay.” Hidan nods but doesn’t intend to stop at that, asking suddenly, “Is it because of Pein?”

For a moment Kakuzu forgets to breathe.

“What does he have to do with this?”

“You think I’m dumb?” Hidan grimaces. “It was the same last time. You still haven’t gotten over it?”

 _Last time_.

It would have been better if Hidan had left him to die then; if he had never found him at all.

Why can’t he just forget about everything—and not ask questions; Kakuzu _doesn’t want to_ remember anything.

Even if the memories don’t go away, no matter how hard he tries to get rid of them.

“I already said I wasn’t going to discuss it. Mind your own business.”

Surprisingly enough, Hidan shuts up. Reluctantly, but it doesn’t matter; at least he’s finally silent.

“Come,” Kakuzu says. “We’d better hurry.”

He doesn’t look back but hears Hidan follow him.

To return to the base, they have to change the usual route; they’ll have to walk longer, but it’s less likely that they’ll be noticed by Konoha shinobi. They barely managed to escape one patrol before they were spotted. Of course, they wouldn’t pose a serious threat, but the less attention the Akatsuki will attract, the better.

Even understanding that, Hidan never stops complaining; but Kakuzu manages to ignore him.

It’s better than if he kept asking awkward questions Kakuzu couldn’t answer.

“You seemed to be in a hurry,” Hidan says thoughtfully. “Not that I have anything against some rest, but do you wanna sit here all day?”

Kakuzu silently throws some twigs in the fire; unpleasant cold chills him to the bone, and even the fire doesn’t help much, especially when the wind almost extinguishes the flame, not letting it rise.

Indeed, recently he wanted to deal with the mission as soon as possible and come back; but when the time of return came, he seems to be deliberately delaying it. Kakuzu doesn’t want to admit this shameful weakness even to himself, but he doesn’t want to get close to Pein again. It’s not fear—or, hell, it is.

By the time they return, Pein will certainly have dealt with whatever he’d been busy with; and a conversation with him—even if it will be just a report on completing the mission—isn’t something Kakuzu is ready for.

He probably won’t ever be.

What happened between them can’t be forgotten so easily, especially when not so much time has passed.

Delaying it is even more foolish, but Kakuzu can’t seem to find a better solution.

“As far as I remember, you were the one whining that you’re tired and sick of everything,” Kakuzu replies indifferently, just to reply something. He wraps his arms around himself in a pointless attempt to keep warm; of course, it doesn’t get any better.

“What is it?” Hidan asks, surprised. “Are you cold?”

“What do you care,” Kakuzu doesn’t look at him—and flinches in surprise, feeling his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, calm down,” Hidan frowns. “I’m not doing anything.”

Kakuzu understands it, but no rational argument works; he still wants only to back away, to shove Hidan off—what even is this sudden kindness.

Hidan doesn’t rush to explain anything, just sits next to him, moving closer.

“Get away,” Kakuzu says nervously. “Get away. Right now.”

“Or what, you’ll break my arm?” Hidan grins. “Or rip my head off? Great threats.”

“ _Get away_ from me,” Kakuzu repeats slowly.

Hidan doesn’t obey—more than that, he boldly tries to _hug_ him; and in this moment Kakuzu is almost ready to rip his arm—or both—off.

But again, he’s stopped by an unpleasant feeling that it’s wrong, that he shouldn’t do that—immortal or not, Hidan still feels the pain.

And Kakuzu doesn’t to ever hurt him again; so he just gets up sharply and walks as far away as possible.

 _Just ignore him_ , he tells himself. _Sooner or later he’ll get tired of annoying you._

Somehow Kakuzu doesn’t really believe it.

They walk the narrow mountain path in silence; Hidan is unusually quiet, seeming lost in his thoughts. Perhaps he’s still trying to understand the reasons of his strange behavior; Kakuzu can’t not acknowledge that no matter how hard he tries to hide the consequences, they’re still showing. If you look a little deeper, all becomes obvious; Hidan has already understood something.

It’s unpleasant, but Kakuzu can’t do anything about it.

For some reason Hidan wants to delve into his recent past, into his feelings and thoughts—whether to make fun of him, to mock him, or because of innocent curiosity, it doesn’t matter. Kakuzu isn’t going to humor him, but he probably won’t convince him to just forget about that, either.

It’s easier to leave it as it is.

Halfway to the top Kakuzu stops and looks down.

It’s pretty high—a fall would be fatal. Even Hidan would probably need a lot of time to recover.

A strange thought flickers in his mind—how easy it is to die if you lose your focus for even a moment.

So easy.

He wonders if he’ll die if he steps down now.

How long his lives will last him.

The thought of falling, which seemed fleeting, now feels... attractive.

“Why the hell did you stop?” Hidan turns around, as if sensing his hesitation.

He doesn’t stop walking—and so _expectantly_ steps past the narrow path.

Despite his shocked and even frightened look, it seems like he did that on purpose—a provocation, a test; or just a desire to anger Kakuzu more by making him wait.

Shinobi as strong as Hidan—and he _is_ strong, despite his stupidity and recklessness—don’t fall off the damn mountain road like this.

Kakuzu isn’t even surprised when in just a moment he finds himself at the edge, gripping Hidan’s hand firmly.

He just doesn’t want to waste time waiting for this idiot to regenerate and come back up—Kakuzu wouldn’t want to return to get him.

It’s the only reason.

He doesn’t think anymore about how close he was to the fall himself.

Hidan looks at him and grins; and now Kakuzu is sure he did it on purpose.

Though why would he—but perhaps it doesn’t matter.

“Watch your step, idiot,” Kakuzu says dryly.

“Why, if you always save me?” And he laughs, obviously pleased with himself.

“One day I might not.” Kakuzu drags him up without much care. He doesn’t know what makes him add, “I just won’t get to you in time.”

For some reason the smile fades from Hidan’s face, but Kakuzu doesn’t think about it, turning away and continuing to walk.

***  
  


Despite his doubts, reporting to Pein goes without any problems. Hidan, just like always, seems bored, and studies the ceiling, sometimes muttering something incoherent under his breath. Pein listens silently as Kakuzu tells about what happened on the mission, not meeting his gaze.

To be honest, they both try not to look at each other, which is understandable—and Kakuzu is somewhat glad.

Pretending that nothing ever happened turns out to be easier than he imagined.

When Kakuzu finishes, Pein nods.

“It’s a pity that you didn’t manage to obtain more information, but at least Konoha will remain in the dark about the Akatsuki’s actions. I have another task for you two.”

“I’m listening, Leader-sama.”

Pein suddenly looks at him—straight into his eyes, the same piercing gaze that Kakuzu wasn’t able to fully forget.

He’s saying something about the new mission, but Kakuzu barely hears his words, as if coming from behind a thick wall. He can’t move, frozen in this weird daze, and all he sees is Pein’s eyes, something burning deep inside of them.

_Dangerous._

Pein raises his hand sharply, and perhaps this gesture is simply meant to support something he’s saying; it’s not even directed at him. But his mind is refusing to adequately perceive what’s happening now.

_Danger._

_Pain._

_Again._

Kakuzu takes a step back—and one more, not even realizing it; he freezes when the awareness of reality returns.

Pein stops in the middle of the sentence, looks at him in surprise—guilt seems to flash in his eyes, but Kakuzu doesn’t believe it anymore.

There is no point in making excuses before himself—he is afraid.

Just the sight of Pein awakens fear.

He wants to be anywhere but here, not this close to Pein when he can— anything—

“Fuck, Pein,” Hidan pushes him back with surprising ease, getting in between them. “Do we seriously have to go on another fucking mission? We’ve just returned, have some fucking decency!”

“No objections,” Pein makes a far too long pause, not taking his eyes off Hidan, and Kakuzu is glad that he’s not looking at him. “Do as you’re told.”

“I’m sick of you!”

It’s amazing that Hidan isn’t shaken at all by Pein’s presence; he doesn’t care, as always, he has no respect for the Leader, and he certainly isn’t afraid of him.

Perhaps it’s because even death means nothing for him.

“Forget the mission, but couldn’t you have picked a better place? Have you even been to that Jashin-forsaken shithole you’re sending us to? It’s gonna take us a whole week just to get there, why the hell do we always have to do all the dirty work?”

Pein closes his eyes for a second, clearly tired of this farce. And before, Kakuzu would agree, would be the first to silence his partner.

But now, an endless stream of curses from Hidan seems to him the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. If he concentrates on Hidan, listens only to him, looks only at him, he can stop thinking of Pein, almost forget that he’s just a few steps away. And the unpleasant feeling of fear that doesn’t want to leave is somewhat shadowed by the familiar irritation.

And, even though he won’t admit it out loud, by sincere gratitude.

The way Hidan is standing makes it seem like he’s shielding him; it most likely wasn’t his intent, but it’s good.

Hidan _distracts_ Pein, turning all attention to himself, and it gets a little easier to breathe.

After a couple minutes of their back and forth—though it was mostly Hidan talking, barely letting Pein say a word—Kakuzu finally relaxes.

Not completely, and he’s still not looking at Pein, but it’s something.

The fear seems unfounded now.

“It’s out of the question, Hidan,” Pein says dryly. “I’m getting tired of your complaints. Follow the orders.”

“Why should I listen to you—” Hidan begins, but Kakuzu doesn’t let him finish, saying hoarsely, “Shut up, Hidan.” And, turning to Pein, “Don’t worry, Leader-sama. We will complete the mission.”

Instead of answering, Pein only nods.

He dismisses them with a silent gesture, not saying a word as they’re about to leave.

Kakuzu still feels his intense gaze fixed on him—and for some reason turns around when he’s already at the door. He sees the way Pein’s looking at him, and _something_ in his expression makes him stop.

Pein still says nothing, but there is silent request in his eyes.

To listen, to give him yet another chance; to be honest, Kakuzu isn’t sure what exactly Pein wants from him, but for some reason he can’t move, looking at him.

Until Hidan squeezes his hand firmly and drags him out of the room, saying something like ‘how long am I supposed to wait’; and again, it’s not like he’s doing anything special.

This time, his touch doesn’t cause as strong reaction as before, especially in comparison to what happened just now; and Kakuzu doesn’t push him away immediately.

Only when the door closes behind them.

“I told you not to touch me,” it doesn’t sound as threatening as he intended.

Hidan shrugs.

“Otherwise you would’ve stood there for a century.”

“Shut up.”

Surprisingly, Hidan does shut up, but doesn’t leave, still standing in front of him, as if waiting for something. Kakuzu has no idea what it is; but he has a question he would like to be answered.

“Why did you do that?” he asks quietly.

“Did what?” Hidan is good at pretending like he doesn’t understand what he means.

To be honest, Kakuzu doesn’t know how to put it.

 _Protected_ him? Nonsense.

It’s more than likely that Kakuzu misinterpreted Hidan’s actions because of emotions overwhelming him—that in this fortunate coincidence, he saw almost a salvation.

“Started arguing with Pein,” he finally chooses the most neutral option.

Hidan replies almost immediately—nonchalantly, even grinning, “Why not? Seriously, I’m sick of the guy. Pushing us around like we’re his slaves, playing god—even though everyone knows that the only true god is Jashin-sama!”

Kakuzu didn’t expect to hear anything different from Hidan. And he could easily believe this familiar tone, really.

If not for the way Hidan is averting his eyes, frowning funnily, as always when he’s caught doing something nice for a change.

“So, I don’t know what you thought,” Hidan begins, still not meeting his gaze, but Kakuzu doesn’t let him finish.

“Thanks.”

“Huh?” Hidan blinks. “For what?”

_For everything._

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, but Hidan smiles for some reason.

This smile is different from his usual arrogant grin, but Kakuzu can’t name or even _understand_ the emotions behind it.

Does it even matter?

“I still don’t understand,” Kakuzu says, “why you care about my problems.”

“You admit you have problems! That’s some progress.”

“Hidan.”

Under his frustrated gaze, Hidan falls silent.

“Just answer.”

“I...” Hidan starts and then stammers, turning away.

“You?” Kakuzu raises his eyebrow.

“Shit, it’s harder than I thought,” he laughs nervously. “Okay, wait...”

Kakuzu doesn’t really care about Hidan’s reasons, but it’s somewhat surprising that he can’t explain them.

Though perhaps he doesn’t have any reasons—it’s Hidan, after all.

Hidan ruffles his hair awkwardly, still avoids looking at him, as if embarrassed by whatever he’s about to say.

“Well, damn...” he bites his lip but continues, “I... like you. I think. Fuck, no. Or yes. I mean, I... like you a lot?”

It sounds ridiculously helpless, so much so that it’s almost endearing.

So _unlike_ Hidan that Kakuzu doesn’t even understand right away _what_ he means.

When he does, he has no idea what to do, seeing how Hidan looks at him stubbornly and, damn it, _hopefully_.

“I sound like a total idiot, yeah?” and here is this unnatural laugh again. “Fuck, I didn’t imagine it like this.”

Kakuzu speaks before he fully realizes what’s happening.

“Hidan, no.”

There’s resentment and confusion in Hidan’s eyes; just like in his voice when he says, trying to appear casual, “What, you don’t like me at all? I’m not asking for eternal love or some shit. You don’t even wanna fuck me? Oh, yeah, you’ve got that _phobia_ ,” he smiles, too strained to believe it.

“Your jokes have never been funny, but this is just nonsense.”

“I’m not fucking joking!” Hidan shifts as if wanting to move closer or even touch him, but he has enough sense left to stay in place. “I’m serious,” he says helplessly. “How else do I say it?”

Kakuzu looks at him, silent. It’s unexpected, foolish; why would Hidan suddenly say this?

But even if it is true, he can’t respond to his _confession_.

It’s not about Hidan, but about him.

Letting someone get so close, risking everything—never. He won’t do something this stupid again.

“Don’t,” Kakuzu says as softly as possible. “If you’re serious, then my answer is definitely no.”

And it seems like Hidan senses something beyond this rejection, because he suddenly relaxes and smiles calmly, reassuringly.

“Okay, maybe not now. But just give me a chance! You’ll see I’m fucking amazing.”

He makes no attempt to approach or touch him, and his sincere and naive request _almost_ makes Kakuzu smile.

“Only a chance,” he says.

“I’m not asking for anything more,” Hidan shrugs. “Just to give it a try. If it doesn’t work out—hey, we’re still great partners, right? I want to at least try.”

Kakuzu doesn’t reply right away; it’s not easy to accept.

Even if he believes Hidan—even if he is sincere, Kakuzu really has nothing to offer him.

Feelings? It’s strange to think about it.

He’s grateful to Hidan; he’s gotten used to his presence and this sort-of support; but ‘feelings’ might be going too far—he never thought of Hidan as someone other than a partner.

In some other case, Kakuzu wouldn’t mind complying to this foolish desire, especially since Hidan is quite attractive; but when almost every touch, even unintentional, makes him freeze in uncontrollable fear...

No.

And in fact, he’s useless to Hidan.

But for some reason Hidan wants him.

There’s no logic in that.

Just like in all of his actions.

“I’ll wait,” Hidan adds suddenly. “Really, it’s fine. Think about it.”

Still not entirely convinced, Kakuzu nods nonetheless.

“Don’t expect much.”

***

“Hey, what do you say if we just forget the mission?” Hidan asks as soon as they leave Ame, and it’s unexpected to say the least.

Kakuzu turns to him, not quite sure what this is about.

Hidan was never interested in the affairs of the organization, but he followed the orders, even if reluctantly.

Why would he decide to act differently now?

“Meaning?”

“We could leave the Akatsuki,” Hidan says, and it doesn’t sound too surprising for some reason. “Do you still want to stay with them?”

“Why would you bring that up?”

Hidan has a reason to want to leave the organization, after all, he never wanted to join it—just like half of the current members, though. And still, Kakuzu doesn’t understand why he raises this topic now.

“As you might remember, I was forced to join this bunch of freaks,” Hidan chuckles, and Kakuzu nods—he was there. “Nobody gave me a choice. At first it was bearable, but then... it’s much easier on your own, y’know. No orders, no reports, do whatever you want. I would’ve left long ago. But I don’t really wanna leave without you.”

This last phrase seems unnecessary, but Kakuzu doesn’t comment.

After their last conversation, Hidan allows himself a little more—and it applies to words as well.

It isn’t annoying, contrary to the expectations, but Kakuzu doesn’t know how to react—he can’t reciprocate, can’t convey his feelings even with a change of tone—because there are none. At most, he finds Hidan’s company _pleasant_ ; but that’s it. Because of this, he can’t shake away the guilt—for not meeting expectations.

_Again._

Despite the fact that Hidan doesn’t even expect anything in return.

“So?” Hidan asks. “Come on, it’s a great option. As if someone can stop us.”

Kakuzu could argue: escape will add even more difficulties to their already complicated lives. Along with almost every shinobi of every village wanting their death, their former ‘colleagues’ will be chasing them as well. They know too much to let them go so easily. And living on the run, being constantly hunted... is it worth it?

But he knows that nothing will be the same, even if he rejects Hidan’s idea.

“Okay, tell me what: how did you even get into all this?” Another question tears him from his thoughts.

Kakuzu could come up with any meaningless answer, but for some reason he doesn’t want to lie to Hidan. He deserves at least honesty.

So Kakuzu replies, “Pein. He was the reason I joined the Akatsuki.”

There’s surprise, anger and strange sadness in Hidan’s eyes.

“I see.”

He turns away, as if distancing himself, and it’s hard to tell what exactly the reason was.

“Hidan.” Kakuzu almost reaches out but stops himself; it’s better to wait. “I’m saying it as it is. I don’t want to...” he hesitates, choosing his words, “offend you somehow.”

“Fuck, just great,” Hidan lets out a loud sigh. “Now I feel guilty. Shit.”

Kakuzu is silent, not knowing what to say. Guilty—for what? For reminding him? What nonsense.

It’s too complicated. Everything has changed too quickly, and he has no idea how to act now, what to say, what to do—should he do anything, or let things run their course?

“I suppose you’re right,” he says after a few minutes of tense silence. “There’s no point in staying with the Akatsuki. But I hope you understand that we won’t be allowed to simply walk away. Most likely they’ll attempt to kill us.”

“We’re still stronger than all of them,” Hidan shrugs carelessly, visibly more cheerful. His mood changes so often as if he takes nothing seriously. “Especially together.”

 _Together_ sounds so strange.

On the other hand, they are partners; and despite their differences, there is too much connecting them to simply forget about it, even _if_ they leave the Akatsuki.

Kakuzu shakes his head.

“You’re too arrogant. I need to think.”

“Hey, no problem,” Hidan smiles a little.

Kakuzu looks at him—and catches himself thinking that such smile suits Hidan. It’s sincere. He isn’t like Pein at all, completely different—and, to be honest, it’s time to stop comparing them.

Hidan is not Pein and will never be.

But it’s good.

“Do you really think I’ll try to kill you or something? That’s why you won’t let me touch you?”

“I don’t think so,” Kakuzu sighs wearily. “It’s stupid, but... it’s kind of like association.”

Touching of any kind means pain. Perhaps not immediately, but it always follows.

“It’s not that stupid.” Hidan looks away for a moment. “You know, I think you just need to get used to it again. To the fact that sometimes it’s nice, being touched, I mean. You can’t go on like this.”

Kakuzu notes that Hidan is nervous—he hasn’t cursed even once. It’s unusual, seeing him like this; Kakuzu can count such moments on one hand in all the time they’ve known each other.

“It’s fine,” he objects.

“No,” Hidan says stubbornly. “I want to touch you... and I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid,” which is an outright lie. Perhaps Hidan doesn’t awake such _fear_ in him like Pein did, but distrust and discomfort are strong enough to avoid physical contact.

“Don’t lie to me,” Hidan grins wryly. “I can see it. Do you wanna spend the rest of your life jumping at your own shadow?”

“And what can _you_ do?” Kakuzu asks angrily. “Why don’t you just leave me alone? What do you need me for?”

Hidan turns away, covering his face with his hand, says quietly, “I’ve already told you everything. What else do you want from me? I suck at those grand words, but you know,” his voice sounds almost desperate, “I can’t... can’t see you like this.”

“Then don’t look.” Kakuzu doesn’t want to start another fight, but the usual harsh words escape his mouth on their own. “I’m not forcing you to help me, I’m not keeping you—do whatever you want.”

Hidan inhales sharply, clenching his fists, but doesn’t say a word even though it’s obvious he wants to.

Kakuzu doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels like he’s crossing the line; he better end this now, if he says something else, Hidan might actually leave. And he isn’t ready to let him go, not quite understanding why—perhaps he just doesn’t want to lose even such inept support.

Hidan is what still keeps him sane.

“I’m so done with you,” Hidan finally says but, contrary to his words, comes closer. “What are we gonna do now?”

“I don’t know.”

Kakuzu looks at him and still can’t understand how he managed to become so important to him in such a short time.

“Shit, I’m telling you, talking ain’t my thing,” Hidan says tensely. “It’d be easier for me to just hug you or something.”

Before, Kakuzu would agree—much easier than trying to explain all of your feelings that you sometimes don’t fully understand yourself. But now it’s different. Just the thought of letting Hidan get _so close_ is disturbing.

“You know I won’t,” Hidan says hastily, “won’t hurt you. You trust me, right?”

_Please, trust me._

Pein also spoke so sincerely; but he only proved that no one could be trusted.

Why should Hidan be an exception?

Why should Kakuzu believe him?

“I don’t trust anyone.”

Hidan bites his lip, not even trying to hide his hurt expression. Kakuzu would like to answer differently, but he’s not going to take such risk. No matter what Hidan says, he can’t trust him.

“But still,” Hidan says stubbornly. “Fuck, have I ever given you a reason to doubt me? I mean, I’m not exactly a nice guy, hell, I can be quite a jerk, but...”

 _But_.

There’s always this ‘but’.

Kakuzu has to tell himself several times that Hidan is no threat before he manages to say, “Don’t even think of doing something except that.”

Hidan blinks, clearly confused.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Get it over with before I change my mind,” Kakuzu replies, irritated.

“Really?” Hidan asks quietly, carefully puts his hands on Kakuzu’s shoulders. He’s tense, ready to let go at any moment, after just one word; and Kakuzu can’t help but be grateful.

And he allows—after some hesitation, but for some reason he’s almost ready to believe him.

“Yes.”

Slowly, just as carefully, Hidan hugs him, presses closer, holding his breath. Kakuzu feels the uneven beating of his heart, the warmth coming from him; it’s something he never felt with Pein.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and there’s nothing bad; but still Kakuzu would prefer Hidan to let him go.

He still understands that Hidan is not going to do anything, it’s just an embrace, there is no threat; but his fear doesn’t go away.

Of course, Hidan notices this.

“Is it _that_ bad?”

Kakuzu shakes his head.

He doesn’t really know.

It’s not _unpleasant_ , but still uncomfortable, too close, too much; despite Hidan’s words and actions, he can’t completely trust him. He doubts he’ll ever be able to.

“Shit,” Hidan says quietly, and disappointment is clear in his voice. “Okay.”

He releases him, taking a step back, and Kakuzu doesn’t hold back a sigh of relief.

“Sorry,” he forces himself to say.

Hidan doesn’t deserve this; but Kakuzu isn’t capable of anything more.

“It’s fine, forget it,” Hidan takes a sharp breath. “I just want to kill Pein even more now.”

There’s silence again, even more awkward and tense than before; and it’s as if it’s only gotten worse.

Hidan turns away, and Kakuzu has absolutely no idea what to say. Apologizing again is stupid and pointless, it won’t change anything.

Staying silent is also no good.

“Hidan.”

“What?” Hidan asks. He seems to sense his gaze but doesn’t turn to him.

“Look at me,” Kakuzu says.

Still cautiously, he reaches out, just barely touching Hidan’s face. Hidan flinches but stays in place, staring at him in utter confusion.

Touching him is easier than the other way around; there’s something strange and wrong in it, but Kakuzu has long stopped caring about such things. He watches as Hidan relaxes, closing his eyes, leans into this simple caress; and can’t help but smile.

It’s slightly better.

When Kakuzu is in control, he can be certain that nothing will happen.

“At least something,” Hidan mutters, but there’s sincere joy in his expression, giving him away.

He raises his hand, lightly gripping Kakuzu’s wrist—not to stop him, just to touch; and Kakuzu doesn’t mind this for some reason. This touch seems less threatening.

Now Kakuzu feels almost calm, and it’s a strange but good feeling.

***

As time passes, Hidan’s idea to leave the Akatsuki begins to seem like the best solution.

To some extent Kakuzu’s thoughts are affected by that last meeting with Pein; he didn’t expect that he’d react in such a way, and it was definitely a problem. And there is probably no other way to solve it other than disappearing.

And Kakuzu also acknowledges the fact that after his _disappointment_ in Pein he no longer sees the point in following his ideals. Without Pein himself, without that genuine admiration Kakuzu once felt when looking at him, these ideals are nothing.

Hidan seems to be something reliable; something unchangeable.

No matter how hard Kakuzu tried to deny himself these foolish hopes, he’s still irrationally certain that he _can_ rely on Hidan. And if he is going to cut ties with the Akatsuki, being on his own again doesn’t seem all that appealing.

He’s used to Hidan in a way, after more than a year of their partnership. There might be something else, which he’s not ready to think about yet; but even that one reason is good enough to not want to part with him.

And no matter how reckless it really is, on one of the days, Kakuzu brings that up.

“You wanted us to leave the organization...” he doesn’t finish, as if still doubting; and maybe it’s true.

Perhaps a part of him is still wishing for things to return to the way they were.

But it’s impossible.

He watches as Hidan’s eyes light up at his words.

“And? You decided on something?” he asks impatiently.

“I did,” Kakuzu says. “To hell with the Akatsuki.”

The surprise on Hidan’s face is replaced with joy, and he laughs.

“Great! I’d hug you, but last time it didn’t go that well, so...”

Kakuzu doesn’t let him finish. Instead he pulls him closer, holding him as tightly as he can; it probably isn’t too comfortable, but Hidan doesn’t object, only returns the embrace, pressing his cheek against his shoulder.

The feelings are mixed; the anxiety is still there, and his heart is beating too fast, but at the same time this closeness feels... good. Not frightening, unlike before.

Hidan will not harm him—he’s not a threat. He’s perhaps the only thing he can hold on to, and while realizing it is weird, it also seems right.

“Everything okay?” Hidan asks quietly. “See... it’s not that scary. I wouldn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Kakuzu agrees.

He doesn’t want Hidan to leave—and he stays. Not just now.

Forever.

For the first time in recent days, Kakuzu feels like everything is how it should be.

  
“Do you need something?” Kakuzu asks without much interest when Hidan sits on the grass next to him.

Such closeness isn’t as uncomfortable; there’s something in Hidan that makes Kakuzu trust him, not wait for a catch at any moment.

It’s not that easy; but time has passed, and any wounds heal eventually, even if they are metaphorical.

There is no more fear.

And that’s good.

“The weather’s... not bad.” Hidan turns away slightly, but the light blush on his cheeks is still noticeable; it’s unusual, and Kakuzu looks at him, for some reason finding the sight attractive. “Don’t you think?”

“You want to talk about the weather, seriously?” Kakuzu chuckles.

Hidan chuckles back, awkward and somewhat embarrassed.

“Why not, the best topic when you don’t know what to talk about.”

“It just shows your lack of creativity.”

Hidan rolls his eyes, still smiling, and suddenly asks,

“You don’t regret that we left?”

“Should I?”

Hidan shrugs.

“Who knows. I can’t read minds.”

Kakuzu is silent. It’s difficult to give a definite answer, but he thinks that he really does not. If there was anything to regret, it’s gone now; and perhaps, leaving the Akatsuki was the best decision he ever made in his life.

Nothing was holding him there.

Except a certain something— _someone_ —he’s not going to remember about.

They are definitely being hunted now. Nobody can simply leave the organization—Pein won’t risk letting them disappear and enjoy a relatively calm life.

Betraying the Akatsuki, you’re signing your own death warrant.

It’s foolish to expect that Kakuzu will become an exception.

But he’s not alone, which fills him with unusual calmness. Even though they can’t be sure of tomorrow, they can rely on each other—and that’s all they need.

Instead of telling all that to Hidan, Kakuzu simply says, “I’m glad you’re with me,” hoping that he was able to express at least part of everything he wants Hidan to know.

Hidan looks at him—surprised and happy, moves even closer, still smiling. Reaches out to touch his face; for some reason it frightens more than it should.

Kakuzu backs away at the last moment, despite Hidan’s confused look.

This kind of touch still feels too personal; Hidan hasn’t crossed this silently defined line yet. Kakuzu understands that there is no reason to push him away now, but just the thought of Hidan touching him this way seems disturbing.

“Hey, come on,” Hidan mutters.

He reaches out again; this time he succeeds, and Kakuzu freezes in place when a warm hand touches his cheek.

Warm, it touches gently, as if reassuring, and the rough calloused fingers seem strangely tender.

Tenderness is deceiving, as he’d learned.

But Pein’s hands were cold, Hidan’s hand is warm; and it’s the only reason Kakuzu doesn’t move, _allowing_ this.

Still, he can’t hide a treacherous shiver, especially from Hidan who is so close.

“What are you doing?” Kakuzu asks hoarsely.

Hidan removes his hand but keeps looking at him stubbornly.

“I want to kiss you,” he says. “Though it’s fine if you don’t wanna. Seriously. After all that shit—hell, it must be hard.”

There’s understanding in his eyes, but no humiliating pity.

Hidan can be surprisingly considerate sometimes, and although it’s rare, Kakuzu appreciates it.

And allowing him something so insignificant... why not.

Thinking about it is still uncomfortable, but not as repulsing as before.

“I don’t mind,” Kakuzu tries to sound as calm as possible.

Judging by the look Hidan gives him, he’s not too successful.

“You sure?” Hidan hesitantly touches his face again.

Just as carefully, and there’s nothing in it that would cause fear; nothing that would awaken memories.

Hidan is not like Pein at all, neither in his looks nor his actions, and it is reassuring.

Not fully, but still.

Kakuzu nods, not saying a word, but it’s enough for Hidan.

He moves closer—and kisses him lightly, without removing the mask. Even through the thick cloth Kakuzu feels the warmth of his lips so clearly; Hidan stays like this for a few seconds which seem like eternity.

And all this time, Kakuzu doesn’t close his eyes.

Hidan pulls away and smiles, looking at him. Noticing that Kakuzu isn’t going to say anything, he frowns, his smile getting bleak.

“Was it that bad?”

 _What a stupid question_ , Kakuzu wants to say but doesn’t.

There was nothing unpleasant or painful in the touch itself.

Nothing dangerous.

Still, it feels strange.

Kakuzu doubts he’s ready for more now, but Hidan doesn’t insist.

He’s just waiting for some reaction.

“Alright,” Kakuzu replies, a little stiff. “It’s fine.”

Hidan’s eyes flash with yet uncertain hope.

“Does that mean you agree? To try... with me?”

What can he say to that.

“Idiot,” Kakuzu doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Is it a yes? Or no?” Hidan’s over-excitement isn’t annoying right now—rather amusing.

Kakuzu isn’t sure he wants—is ready—to give an answer so soon. But next to Hidan, contrary to common sense, he feels calm and even good.

Safe.

Kakuzu isn’t afraid—not of Hidan, not of something abstract.

And in hindsight, he actually gave the answer back in the day when he first let Hidan hold him—touch him for longer than a few seconds.

“Idiot,” Kakuzu repeats, not sure if he says it to Hidan or to himself.

He pulls away a little, noticing disappointment flickering on Hidan’s face; but instead of moving away completely or getting up and walking away, he lies down next to Hidan, resting his head in his lap.

Hidan flinches but says nothing, only touches his shoulder carefully. Squeezes lightly, as if to show he’s not going to let go.

His hand is warm—and it feels good.

Kakuzu closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling.

He isn’t afraid of Hidan or that he will harm him. He’s proven enough, and Kakuzu doesn’t need anything more to be sure of his intentions.

“I’d like that,” Kakuzu says quietly, knowing that Hidan will hear.

He does—and laughs, so genuinely happy.

_As if there’s anything to be happy about; but for some reason it becomes easier._

Perhaps Kakuzu is making another mistake by trusting Hidan.

But even if he is, he doesn’t care.

Kakuzu still can’t say that everything is great; it will take time.

But still, he feels a little better.

And for now, it’s enough.


	3. someone to try for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this took me _way_ longer than it should've. but there's a happy ending, at least.

Hidan is a little too close for it to be comfortable, but Kakuzu doesn’t say anything for a while. A small inconvenience is something he can put up with.

He stares at the ceiling, breathing deeply and steadily; concentrating on anything but the unpleasant feeling of anxiety inside. Something like the beating of Hidan’s heart; even, quiet, it would even be calming at any other time. Now, it’s just different. At the very least, it helps not to remember.

But there’s also the fact that Hidan is holding him, and his touch can turn into a deadly grip at any moment. It won’t; in the unlikely case, Kakuzu is more than capable of retaliating. He tells himself that first; no matter how he trusts Hidan, his body reacts differently.

There’s always the possibility of danger.

If he makes a move, he might prevent it.

Hidan’s skin feels warm when Kakuzu runs a hand along his back lightly. In a way, he’s also wary, though he can’t quite comprehend of what. Either way, nothing happens—Hidan does nothing.

All the fears seem unfounded, and they _are,_ but the discomfort doesn’t fade.

In truth, Kakuzu doesn’t know if it ever will. Being so affected by what’s already over is foolish—but understanding it does little to help.

Hidan shifts closer, pressing his forehead against Kakuzu’s shoulder, arms sliding around him. It’s getting close to _too much._

Kakuzu lies still for a few more minutes, until it becomes clear that it’s not getting better any time soon.

“Hidan. You’re taking advantage of my feelings towards you.”

Hidan immediately raises his head—it’s hard to tell in the dark, but he seems to be smirking.

“Oh, and what do you feel for me?”

“I tolerate you,” Kakuzu responds wearily and forces him away. “Which is quite difficult.”

Hidan seems to be disappointed at being pushed away so quickly but doesn’t argue—and doesn’t try to hug him again. He only touches his shoulder lightly and asks, unusually serious, “Should I leave? Well, if you’re, like... if you still feel bad or something.”

Kakuzu shakes his head. Even though he still isn’t completely used to Hidan’s touch, with him near, he does feel slightly more at ease.

“Stay, but not touch you?” Hidan grins. “No problem.”

He lies down next to him, keeping some distance between them—and it’s enough. The tension doesn’t leave completely, but that would be too much to hope for.

Kakuzu closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax, which, again, doesn’t quite work.

He’d prefer not to think at all, but at times like this, his mind keeps wandering off; to the things he wants to erase. As though nothing ever happened; as though he never walked into a trap set by his own mind.

It’s cold in the room, and somehow it reminds him of cold of another nature; still too familiar.

Such a sickening feeling.

Helplessness.

_He chose to be helpless._

“Hey.”

Hidan’s quiet voice brings him to reality. Reality where there’s no one but them.

“Something wrong?” He sounds worried, but there’s no reason for him to be.

Kakuzu lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just sleep already.” It’s not the best time for a conversation, even a meaningless chatter.

Hidan chuckles quietly but clearly, and says nothing more.

But, strangely enough, this distraction helps; and when Kakuzu closes his eyes again, there’s no phantom touch to bring back the memories; it’s only darkness and Hidan’s quiet breathing next to him.

When Kakuzu wakes up the next morning, he isn’t even half-surprised to find Hidan sleeping snuggled close to him.

What surprises him is how... alright it feels.

With a quiet sigh, he frees himself from Hidan’s arms, runs a hand through his disheveled hair lightly, and gets up.

For the first time in quite a while, he doesn’t really know how to occupy himself. They’ve been staying in this god-forsaken village for almost a week now, and still didn’t have a clear destination. It was a good place to hide, Kakuzu could admit; far away from the shinobi villages and Akatsuki hideouts, it posed no interest to anyone; and it was unlikely someone would look for them here.

But even so, they couldn’t stay here forever—even though Hidan did half-jokingly suggest that—which meant they needed to figure out where to move next.

Though it’s not a pressing issue, so Kakuzu decides to think about it later.

He almost chuckles to himself; he never thought he would feel bored. Usually he got a new mission as soon as he finished the previous one, and rare moments of rest seemed a blessing. But now, without a clear goal ahead, he almost feels like they’re wasting time.

Hidan wakes up much later, when it’s almost noon. Not really surprising—he never liked getting up early.

“Morning,” Hidan drawls, sitting at the table next to him. His hair is still a mess which he doesn’t bother to fix.

It’s somewhat weird seeing him like this; mostly because usually Kakuzu never paid much attention to these little details.

Hidan catches his look and grins. “Yeah, I’m pretty amazing.” He brushes away the hair falling to his face.

“You think too much of yourself,” Kakuzu replies, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

This—all of this—seems so... normal. So unlike what he’s used to. Before recent events, they have never spent the mornings like this, relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company; and Kakuzu would’ve never imagined that someday he’d feel like this with Hidan of all people.

“I know you like what you see,” Hidan laughs.

If only he also knew when not to speak.

Kakuzu leaves it without a reply and returns to studying the map.

“Already planning to leave?” Hidan wonders, leaning over his shoulder to take a look. “Come on, we’ve only just arrived.”

“We need a plan in case something happens,” Kakuzu says. To be honest, he wasn’t really planning anything. No, he marked a few places on the map, but that was it. Their whole plan for now was to wait until things calmed down and try not to draw any unwanted attention.

Hidan waves dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Pick some nice place at least.”

As always, he doesn’t seem to care much about anything that isn’t right here and now. Sometimes Kakuzu envies him.

“I can’t promise anything.” Kakuzu pushes the map away. They don’t need to leave right away, and so he again feels like it’s just a pointless attempt to distract himself by pretending to do something useful.

Hidan huffs and shifts closer to him.

Reaching out, he pauses—and only takes Kakuzu’s hand when he nods. It’s not so much a romantic gesture as it is a way for him to get used to physical contact again. And though slowly, it seems to be working.

Hidan always looks at him for approval, and doesn’t act until receiving it.

It’s strange, but right now—it’s what Kakuzu needs. Certainty.

They don’t say anything for a while; Hidan actually knows when words don’t help. His touch feels different. Safe.

Hidan lets go of his hand, watching him intently; but relaxes when Kakuzu takes initiative, reaching out to stroke his face.

Touching him is still easier than _being_ touched.

But he allows Hidan slightly more this time, giving in.

Carefully, Hidan pulls down his mask. When his fingers touch bare skin, it takes all of Kakuzu’s strength to stay still; but the warmth of Hidan’s touch eventually calms him enough.

When Hidan looks at him, there’s understanding in his eyes—and that strange emotion he still can’t put a name to. But it’s better than that wrongness he saw in Pein’s gaze.

Mere moments after Hidan’s lips connect with his, Kakuzu turns away. There’s something not letting him go there yet.

Perhaps it’s because he remembers what follows after moments of tenderness.

Hidan is not Pein; he’s not even like him at all. But sometimes Kakuzu thinks that every single thing in his life is now tainted by memories of Pein.

“Not now,” Kakuzu says, as soft as he can, seeing disappointment flicker in Hidan’s eyes.

“Sure,” Hidan smiles—which looks surprisingly sincere. “I get it.”

Maybe he does. It doesn’t really matter.

A bitter feeling rises in his throat again; _pathetic._ Even though Hidan had already seen him at his worst, it hardly makes anything better now.

Bitterness mixes with anger, and he clenches his fist.

He can deal with it. He _has been_ for quite a while now.

“Hey,” Hidan begins, slightly awkward. “You... wanna talk?”

“Not exactly,” Kakuzu responds, not looking at him.

There’s nothing to talk about. He’d much rather forget everything that happened.

“Alright,” surprisingly enough, Hidan doesn’t argue. “So, what are we doing then? I mean, we do have some plans for our bright future, right?”

Somehow, Hidan’s lighthearted manner often puts Kakuzu at ease despite everything; just like now. He shakes his head, almost feeling like smiling. “I suppose you won’t be satisfied with ‘we’re going to be on the run for the rest of our lives’?”

“For eternity!” Hidan corrects, chuckling. “And living on the run can be fun, too.”

Kakuzu only shrugs. They seem to have different definitions of fun. But he’s certain of one thing—it’s better than staying with the Akatsuki.

“Though I’m kinda surprised you haven’t taken one of your bounty missions already,” Hidan adds.

“I have a couple relatively easy targets in mind. But for now... I suppose we could use a break.”

There is a reason for that. Kakuzu thinks that setting out on a mission now would actually help him clear his mind, but they probably need to lay low for a while. He isn’t that foolish to hope that Pein will completely forget about them after a month or two, but he might turn his attention to more pressing matters—like capturing the jinchūriki.

“Finally, a real vacation! I adore you.”

Kakuzu only shakes his head without replying to this.

“What?” Hidan frowns slightly but then smiles again. “Hey, you think they’re already looking for us?”

“I don’t doubt that,” Kakuzu says dryly.

He doesn’t like thinking about it, but they have to consider all the possibilities—especially such a strong one. It isn’t very likely that Pein will chase after them himself; he’ll probably send someone else from the organization. Probably Konan, as his most trusted person. Or Uchiha and Hoshigaki—these two will no doubt give them a lot of trouble.

But they knew what they’d signed up for when they decided to leave.

The best course of action is to try and avoid direct confrontation—for as long as possible. They won’t be able to hide forever, but at least they’ll have time to prepare.

Kakuzu doesn’t let his mind wander to a dangerous territory; he knows that Pein won’t just let them be, even if there’s still some fondness for Kakuzu left inside him. The organization and its ultimate goals have always been Pein’s main concern, and hoping that he’ll take such risk because of personal affections is outright foolish.

The thought feels bitter for some reason; as if he didn’t know what to expect. As if he believes that what he once saw in Pein is still there. As if a part of him regrets what happened.

Kakuzu clutches the edge of the table, feeling the wood creak quietly.

And again he makes the same mistake.

He simply shouldn’t think about it.

Regrets will not change the reality.

If Pein cared even somewhat, none of that would have happened in the first place.

Shaking his head, Kakuzu forces the thoughts away. No, instead of reflecting on the past, he’d rather focus on the present—and how they can get out of the mess they’ve gotten themselves into.

They have pretty decent chances—unless Pein does decide to take matters into his own hands.

Would Kakuzu be able to hold up against him? A foolish question; he still remembers how easily Pein had defeated him years ago. Perhaps a better question is—would he even be able to harm Pein?

While unpleasant to consider, Kakuzu knows it’s possible. And if he hesitates even for a moment, he’ll lose the fight before it begins.

“Hey, are you even listening?” He hears Hidan’s voice—was he saying something?—and then a hand hits his shoulder lightly.

Everything happens at once—Kakuzu doesn’t even manage to process it. Sudden contact makes all of his instincts scream danger, and only at the last second he manages to redirect the blow.

The table is smashed into pieces, along with everything that was on it, and long cracks on the floor almost reach the wall.

The room seems to still be shaking.

Surprisingly, Hidan is unharmed; standing with his back pressed against the wall, he stares at Kakuzu with wide eyes. He tries to approach, but Kakuzu jerks his head— _don’t._

His hands tremble, and he clenches his fists; destroying this place won’t do any good, and he definitely does not want to harm Hidan.

He knows he has to say something, assure Hidan that it’s fine—when it’s not—but his throat tightens, and no sound comes out.

Pathetic.

_Are you hurt now?_

_Show me._

Kakuzu exhales sharply, and even breathing is hard now.

“Hey,” Hidan speaks, taking a careful step forward. “Look, I...”

“Stay where you are,” Kakuzu says through his gritted teeth.

Hidan stops. “I forgot,” he says, “I’m an idiot, I know, I just didn’t think.”

Does he ever?

Kakuzu doesn’t say that; it wouldn’t be really fair to Hidan. He’s already more considerate than Kakuzu expected him to be, and what happened now should only be blamed on his own inadequate reaction.

“I didn’t mean anything bad,” Hidan says. “You know, right?”

Kakuzu knows, but it doesn’t help much. Not now.

He looks at Hidan—there’s genuine concern on his face, mixed with guilt; _he_ shouldn’t have to feel guilty, but Kakuzu can’t focus on this now. He needs to calm down; he clenches his fists harder, closes his eyes and inhales deeply. It works only partially, like always, but it’s better than nothing.

“Can I...” Hidan’s voice sounds unusually soft, as though he’s afraid to provoke another outburst. “Can I come closer now?”

Suppressing an unpleasant shiver, Kakuzu nods. It takes all his effort not to attack when Hidan approaches and kneels down in front of him. Disgusted at his weakness, he forces himself to stay still; he’s not going to let this take over him again.

“It’s okay,” Hidan mutters awkwardly—he’s not used to this, and his attempts at comforting have always been clumsy at best; but it’s the sincerity that does somewhat help. “Look, I just... I really forgot. I mean, it was kinda getting better, no? And I thought— but I should’ve—”

“Hidan,” Kakuzu interrupts him. He knows well enough that Hidan didn’t mean bad.

“I’m an idiot,” Hidan repeats helplessly and looks at him. “Forgive me?”

Taking a deep breath, Kakuzu shakes his head.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I simply didn’t expect it. This isn’t your fault.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

Hidan doesn’t look entirely convinced, but there’s not much else Kakuzu can say. Another lie that it’s alright won’t lead anywhere, and there’s no use pretending when it’s just the two of them. Hidan already sees everything. He’s seen worse, in fact.

“What the hell... has he done to you,” Hidan mutters and suddenly moves closer, pressing against him.

Kakuzu allows him only a moment before backing away.

_What has he done..._

Probably taken away his ability to trust, however small it was from the beginning.

Hidan looks at him like he wants to say something—and even begins, “Well, um...” but trails off quickly and glances around the room. “You’ve roughed this place up quite a bit. Bet it’ll cost twice as much as the rent.”

Not the worst way to change the topic, probably.

“Then we’ll have to leave earlier. I’m not going to pay for that.”

Hidan laughs—it’s loud and a bit nervous. “Figures. You never do.”

Kakuzu stifles a sigh and pulls his mask up. Acting normal isn’t easy, but at the very least, Hidan doesn’t try to press the issue.

He didn’t lie when he said he didn’t blame Hidan; he’s mad mostly at himself. Things did seem to have gotten better, and he didn’t expect his reactions to still be so severe.

It feels... humiliating.

But thinking about it will only make this worse.

Kakuzu gets up slowly; Hidan almost moves to try and help him, but stops after meeting his gaze. They both are silent, and the atmosphere feels strained.

He should be able to control himself. And instead, he loses this control because of such a minor thing.

***

They reach another village by the end of the day, and it almost feels like they haven’t left at all. These settlements all look strikingly similar, and Kakuzu wouldn’t tell them apart even if he had to.  
They haven’t come here for a nice view, though, so it matters little.

The whole time on their way here, they barely spoke at all. It’s better then a forced, awkward conversation, but Hidan’s intent look still makes Kakuzu feel uneasy. It’s like he’s expecting something—probably an explanation, which, if so, Kakuzu is unable to provide.

The discomfort he’s feeling doesn’t rush to leave; at times, it’s almost as though he feels familiar cold touch graze his skin again, and again it takes all his effort to maintain outward calm.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to simply forget all that happened; but he at least thought that he’d buried it in the farthest corners of his mind.

And yet when the memories return, he feels weak and trapped again; and what’s worse is probably the fact how apparent it is.

Hidan never once mocked him for this, but he doesn’t have to; Kakuzu knows how pathetic it makes him. He can’t even blame it on the initial shock anymore—it’s been quite a while, and he should have already gotten over it.

Yet it turned out to be even harder than he thought.

  
“We only have single rooms available,” the hotel clerk says uncertainly, looking them over—probably afraid that they’re going to cause trouble. Not an unfounded fear in itself; but they have other concerns now.

“Whatever,” Kakuzu says. His own voice sounds unusually hoarse to him. “It’ll do.”

They’ve had to sleep in far worse conditions.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get two—” The man shuts up when Kakuzu looks at him.

“Should I repeat myself?”

The man swallows nervously and shakes his head. The rest of the exchange goes relatively smoothly.

After they get the keys and head upstairs, Hidan chuckles quietly.

“You’re so charming,” he explains when Kakuzu gives him a questioning look. “The guy’s lucky you didn’t break his neck.”

“We’re not here for trouble,” Kakuzu only says.

“Su-ure.”

Kakuzu doesn’t bother with a response, and they walk to their room in silence. It doesn’t last nearly long enough.

  
“Hey, this room looks nice,” Hidan notes as he opens the door. “Be a pity if you destroyed it too.”

Kakuzu doesn’t reply to that. Hidan has a habit of trying to get under his skin, and even with recent changes in their relationship, some things just stay the same. And the best course of action is to simply ignore him.

He glances around the room— _nice_ was an overstatement. It’s alright, but they do not need anything more. There’s enough space for the both of them, even if it’s a little tight—but it’s certainly better than sleeping somewhere in a forest or in a cave.

Kakuzu sits on the edge of the bed, deliberately avoiding meeting Hidan’s gaze. He feels exhausted, not physically; and he really is not in the mood for a conversation.

Hidan seems to sense that, as he doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t try to approach, which is good; and for a while, they stay like this.

As it always happens with time, the anxiety fades to the background, no longer constricting his chest, and Kakuzu finally breathes in freely.

He relaxes his hands, no longer needing to hide the shiver; physical reactions are always the hardest to conceal. Even though a part of him understands that Hidan isn’t going to judge, he still doesn’t want it to become a habit—openly showing his weakness.

He breathes in and out, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowly calm down.

It really is time to put an end to this; if only it was as easy as pulling a switch.

“Feeling better?” Hidan breaks the silence.

Kakuzu shrugs. Perhaps. ‘Better’ doesn’t sound quite right; not as bad, more likely.

“Okay,” Hidan says and comes up to him. “Alright if I stay, then?”

“Yes.”

Grinning, Hidan gets on the bed next to him; still keeping a certain distance, though, so it’s alright.

“I almost thought I’d have to wander around the village until you get yourself together.”

“It wouldn’t help.” Him being here does—but Kakuzu doesn’t say this out loud. Though Hidan seems to understand that without any words.

The bed shifts slightly under Hidan’s weight, and then, after a small hesitation, he embraces Kakuzu from behind, laying his head on his shoulder. It’s not exactly alright yet, but it’s _expected—_ there’s no threat, and so Kakuzu allows it.

“Still don’t wanna talk?” Hidan asks quietly.

Kakuzu grimaces. “How do you think?”

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t either.” Hidan goes silent again, and honestly, there isn’t really much to say.

Still, Kakuzu appreciates Hidan’s attempts to help.

Somehow, his warmth and steady heartbeat bring strange calmness. Kakuzu closes his eyes. This moment won’t last long, and he wants to pretend at least for a while that everything is fine, normal, like it used to be.

“Hey, mind if I take this off?”

It takes Kakuzu a couple moments to understand what he means. “If you want.” He shrugs and tilts his head back, allowing Hidan to pull off the hood.

He still rarely takes off his mask; in a way, it feels like another barrier between them, hiding his emotions—and with it, vulnerability. And now it isn’t easy as well, but Kakuzu suppresses the discomfort.

He feels Hidan’s hands entwine in his hair; it’s not something he’s ever done before, but then again, it’s not like Kakuzu has ever _let_ him do something like that.

“What are you doing?” Kakuzu asks, still not opening his eyes. He expected this to be worse, but perhaps he _is_ getting slightly more used to physical contact.

“I like your hair,” Hidan replies simply, his fingers running through long tangled strands. This kind of touch, strangely enough, feels less threatening; good, even. “You should keep it this way.”

“Not exactly convenient.”

“Why even grow out your hair if it’s ‘inconvenient’?” Hidan snorts quietly. His hands move to Kakuzu’s neck and lower to his shoulders, stroking lightly; it’s almost as though he’s testing the boundaries. But he’s surprisingly gentle at that.

“Because I wanted to,” Kakuzu says, jerking his shoulder uncomfortably. He can’t say why exactly, but it’s becoming difficult to bear. A part of him wants to push Hidan away, but at the same time, it isn’t _that_ bad.

“Mhm.” Hidan suddenly leans close, pressing his lips to the back of Kakuzu’s neck. The touch is light, barely tangible, but it still makes him tense and freeze.

Hidan tenses as well, moves away, but says nothing for some reason.

“What is it?” Kakuzu has to ask instead.

“Nothing.” Hidan is silent again for a few long seconds. “Are you really okay with that? ’Cause you look like you’re not.”

“It’s difficult,” Kakuzu tries to avoid the answer.

“Like I don’t know,” Hidan mutters. “It’s just... I wanna help, and—”

“—and I’m grateful for it,” Kakuzu interrupts and turns to look at him. “Hidan.” He reaches out slowly to touch his face—lightly, carefully, still not quite used to it. Hidan closes his eyes, exhaling. “I know it’s not what you wanted.”

“I wanted you,” Hidan says, and his serious tone is surprising. “Still do. And I want you to be... comfortable, I guess.”

“I am,” Kakuzu says and frowns at Hidan’s skeptical look. “As much as it’s possible.”

“Yeah.” Hidan falls silent again. He seems tense, nervous—even uncertain, and frankly, Kakuzu can understand why.

There are obviously still some things left unspoken between them; and neither of them is really good at discussing something like this. Hidan clearly feels awkward; and Kakuzu never liked to talk about his emotions. It makes him feel uncomfortably open, especially admitting that he isn’t fine.

But it feels like his silence only complicates the whole situation further.

Hidan keeps looking at him—expectantly, but it’s hard to say what he’s waiting for.

“Do you like me?” Hidan asks bluntly. “I don’t want you to think you owe me or whatever.”

 _Like._ This word expresses too little, but Kakuzu doesn’t know if he can find one more fitting.

“I care about you,” he says after a while. “And you have already gotten my answer.”

Hidan lets out a quiet sigh and shifts closer, pressing his cheek against Kakuzu’s. He’s slightly tense at first but relaxes as he realizes Kakuzu isn’t going to react like he did before. “But did you really mean it though?”

“I did.” Kakuzu closes his eyes. Hidan’s closeness feels even... comfortable now. Good.

It doesn’t seem like words will convince him; but then again, both of them have always been better at actions.

He only has to turn his head and cover Hidan’s lips with his; and he does just that.

The kiss is slow and cautious; this time it’s Kakuzu testing the grounds, and even though the touch itself doesn’t remind him of the pain, something in being so close still doesn’t let him completely relax.

But even that fades eventually, and he allows himself to bury his fingers in Hidan’s hair, give into the sensations.

Hidan’s lips are warm, just like his body when he presses against him, and the uneven beating of his heart is what solidifies the certainty; and him being just as cautious, not pushing too hard.

Pein isn’t here; will never be again.

And Kakuzu really should stop thinking of him, what was or what could have been.

“Sorry,” Hidan whispers, pulling away. “I was just... I don’t know.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t think at all.”

“You shouldn’t,” Kakuzu agrees. He doesn’t smile, but he almost feels like it. “Not like you’re good at it anyway.”

“Hey!” But Hidan doesn’t seem offended, grinning widely. “There, you’re becoming yourself again. Just the way I like you.”

Kakuzu only looks at him silently. It’s still strange to think about after what happened. But no matter how it affected him, he’ll get over it.

“Hey, I like you in every way... you get what I mean,” Hidan chuckles awkwardly, probably misinterpreting his silence yet again.

“Shut up,” Kakuzu says, holding his face in his hands. “Just shut up.”

Hidan does, leaning in and kissing him; and finally, everything seems right.

Hidan’s hands trail over his body, careful at first, then more certain, meeting no resistance. It feels less comfortable than it used to, but it’s tolerable. If he lets himself go only a little, even pleasant.

Not every touch is supposed to bring pain. Something so simple but easily forgotten.

Kakuzu pushes Hidan down onto the bed almost gently, and he pulls him closer, eager for the touch.

He kisses him not like he used to kiss Pein; there’s no desperation mixed in with care and tenderness, and everything feels different. Calmer.

Leaving light kisses on Hidan’s body, Kakuzu can’t help but remember the times when he would break him instead, and bitter guilt overwhelms him; and it’s probably the best apology he can give.

Hidan doesn’t let him think, tugging on his hair so that he looks up, and kissing him again, and all the conscious thoughts are erased from his mind.

Warm hands run along his skin, rough yet tender; Hidan whispers something incomprehensible in between the kisses; it’s good, and it makes the sudden wrongness feel all the more intense.

It’s like that turn of a switch which seems to only work one-way.

Hidan’s grip strengthens.

His fingers are mere inches from his throat.

_He chokes on breath, struggling to get air into his lungs, and there’s nothing in Pein’s hollow eyes as his consciousness begins to slip away._

He struggles to breathe now, even though it’s Hidan pinned under the weight of his body, even though his touch is nothing like Pein’s, even though everything is already over; he stares into Hidan’s eyes and can’t force himself to move or say a word.

“What’s wrong?” Hidan asks, confused, and his voice breaks the trance.

Kakuzu moves away from him and leans back against the wall, trying to gather himself.

It’s hard even for him to understand why he reacted this way now.

There’s something in leaving himself so exposed—open for an attack. And the rational side of his mind tells him that it would in fact be easier for Hidan to kill him in his sleep or strike from behind when he doesn’t expect it, not right now, when Kakuzu can see his every move; but the irrational is somehow stronger.

Hidan sits up, looking at him expectantly, and Kakuzu does his best to explain.

“It’s about the associations. If you moved your hand up a little, you’d have me by the throat. And I’m certain you have enough strength to break my bones.” Kakuzu raises his hand, noticing Hidan is about to object. “I know you won’t. But my subconscious tells me otherwise.” He half-closes his eyes, focusing on the present—instead of images of the past. Even so, they don’t leave completely, still lingering at the back of his mind, like phantom fingers choking him. Hidan stares at him with a strange expression, a mix of sympathy and anger; and Kakuzu stifles a sigh. “It is fine, but I need time. There’s nothing you can do. Just wait, if you can.”

“’Course I can!” Hidan grips his shoulder—the kind of touch he’s more alright with. “I told you, it’s okay. We’re taking it nice and slow.”

It might take longer than you expect, Kakuzu thinks but doesn’t say it out loud.

Instead, he covers Hidan’s hand with his own—pauses for a while before gently forcing it away.

He’s overestimated himself yet again, it seems. Hoped that things really returned to normal so soon.

He stops himself before these thoughts go too far; time, he needs time. It’s better now than it was even a month ago.

“Can I just kiss you once more?” Hidan asks.

Kakuzu looks at him for a few moments. “Yes,” he replies after some hesitation.

Hidan does so, still so unusually careful, and with a certain effort Kakuzu manages to relax. Hidan’s hands are buried in his hair—he does seem to like it for some reason, and it’s... not bad.

It’s not bad when Kakuzu holds him closer. Or when he responds to the kiss.

They stop there, and then Hidan just embraces Kakuzu, laying his head on his shoulder, and doesn’t say anything; but his silent presence does more than any words could have.

“I was really freaked out, y’know,” Hidan says, moving away to look at him. “When I saw you then. It was the first time I thought you could actually die.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Though Kakuzu can imagine why Hidan would think that.

“You didn’t see yourself.” Hidan falls silent for a few moments before speaking again. “What I mean is, uh...” he trails off, frowning. “I was scared, I don’t wanna feel that again, I don’t want you to go through that again, and, well. I want this to work out. You and me.”

He does sound awkward when talking about his feelings; but he’s sincere and open at that, and Kakuzu can appreciate that.

“I’d like this as well,” Kakuzu admits after a while.

Hidan smiles. “But the thing is, I’m not sure what to do. I get that you don’t wanna talk about all that shit, but maybe give me some idea? ’Cause it’s like one minute you’re alright, and the next you’re freaking out and destroying hotel rooms. You keep that up, we might get banned from all hotels for life,” he snickers, and Kakuzu doesn’t know why he also smiles at this dumb excuse of a joke.

“It’s not that simple,” he says. “It gets worse sometimes. I wish I could control it.”

“Yeah.” Hidan hesitates a little. “Then maybe let me help?”

He reaches out and, when Kakuzu nods, touches his hand. Lightly, carefully; in a way that doesn’t hold any threat.

Yet it’s still hard to get used to.

“You’re already helping,” Kakuzu says—there’s no sense in pretending. Despite some remaining troubles—a lot of them—he can’t deny that Hidan has done a lot to help. And without him, he’d probably be in a much worse place now.

“That’s good.” Hidan grips his hand tighter, watching intently for the reaction. “It’s just... well, I don’t really know how to deal with things like that, you know?”

“Neither do I.”

“We gotta try and fail, then,” Hidan says. “Well, hopefully not fail, but that’s bound to happen.”

“I do envy your optimism,” Kakuzu holds back a sigh.

“And I really don’t envy your pessimism,” Hidan chuckles and leans in to kiss him quickly. “We’ll make it,” he adds, unexpectedly serious. “Like, we always get out of the deepest shit. This time ain’t that different.”

Kakuzu says nothing—but hopes that he’s right.

***

After a few more days they set off once again. Staying at one place, no matter how secure and hidden it seems, isn’t a wise idea.

Hidan complaining all the time is something Kakuzu is long used to; and now he seems to do that just out of habit. After all, this whole thing was his idea, and he knew what to expect.

“I kinda wish we could retire like normal people,” Hidan says with a chuckle.

“You’d be the first to get bored,” Kakuzu replies.

“How do you know?” Hidan manages to sound serious—until he fails to stifle a laughter. “Maybe I’ve always wanted to live a peaceful life. Just imagine—no freaks chasing after us, no running around...”

“...no fights and no sacrifices for your precious Jashin,” Kakuzu finishes, giving him a skeptical look.

“Hey, no, that’s not fair!”

“That would be a peaceful life.”

“When you put it like that, it does sound hella boring,” Hidan says, slightly disappointed. “But still—”

Kakuzu doesn’t let him continue, raising his hand. Hidan falls silent, confused at first, but then realization flickers in his eyes.

They aren’t alone anymore.

Their pursuer follows them for a while without showing herself, but Kakuzu doesn’t need to see her to recognize her.

He isn’t sure why Konan is hesitating; perhaps, she isn’t certain how to begin the attack. Or she’s having doubts—Konan has always been softer than most of them.

Either way, Kakuzu also doesn’t rush to provoke an open fight right now.

Hidan throws a quick glance at him, as if asking what to do, and Kakuzu only shakes his head slightly. Perhaps they’re giving Konan an advantage by choosing not to act; but if she by any chance doesn’t intend to fight, Kakuzu would prefer to hear her out.

Though he doubts whatever she can say will affect anything.

Finally, there’s a quiet rustling above, and then Konan lands on the ground in front of them, white wings behind her back truly making her seem like an angel.

But things are rarely what they seem.

“It took a while to find you,” Konan says. Her tone isn’t threatening or triumphing; it’s more regretful.

“Considering you even tried.”

The corners of her lips twitch up barely noticeably, as though he said something funny. “I might not have put in the effort I should’ve.”

They stare at each other, and Kakuzu wishes he knew what she was thinking about.

“I know,” Konan says suddenly, “why you left. And I... understand.”

“Do you now?” Kakuzu asks, not bothering to hide his skepticism. She might know; but she would never understand.

Konan’s expression twists. She frowns, but her voice sounds steady when she speaks.

“I’ve known Pein since we were children... and this has always been in him.”

 _This_. An uncontrollable desire to break and crush, to hurt, to savor each moment of suffering. Without any reason or motive—simply because he _could._

Kakuzu inhales, forcing the thoughts away; it’s not the time. He catches Hidan’s concerned look but ignores it.

“Years ago, Pein attacked me,” Konan averts her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line, and she’s visibly tense. “Not because he wanted to. He couldn’t control his rage. That was when he... distanced from everyone completely. But when you...” she hesitates, most likely not certain how to phrase it, but then continues, “When the two of you got closer. He probably thought he would be able to restrain himself.”

“Turns out he was mistaken,” Kakuzu says dryly.

He doesn’t want to remember any of it.

When he thinks of Pein, there’s no trace left of that admiration he once felt, but no hatred, either. There’s nothing—except for disgust towards himself. For letting himself be fooled. For being so weak.

Konan only nods.

Her pale face still shows sadness and regret, but also determination. And it’s quite obvious why she’d tracked them down.

“Are you here to kill us?” Kakuzu asks, not wanting to waste any more time.

This time, Konan holds his gaze without looking away. “Such was my order. But I won’t do it.”

Kakuzu frowns. “If you won’t, Pein will send someone else.”

“Not if he thinks you’re dead.”

The silence hangs; none of them rush to say anything.

Is she really going to lie to Pein?

Kakuzu finds it hard to believe. Konan might feel sympathy for him—however sickening it feels to admit that—but she has always been loyal to Pein. They have known each other for nearly all their life, and thinking that Konan would go against him... is doubtful.

“You’ll need to prove it,” Kakuzu says, not bothering to hide his skepticism. No matter how strong Pein’s trust in Konan is, he won’t take only her words for it. Not in this situation.

Konan holds out her hand. “Give me your rings. They will be proof enough.”

“Hey, you forgot I’m immortal?” Hidan cuts in, a slightly strained grin on his face.

“I’ll say you have been... neutralized. They’ll believe me.”

 _They_ —Kakuzu frowns at the word, but Konan doesn’t bother to elaborate on her slip-up.

She just looks at them calmly, waiting for an answer, and this answer is strangely hard to give.

Kakuzu can admit that the solution she’s offering is... reasonable. And there is a certain chance that Pein would indeed believe her.

And even though her motives remain unclear, Kakuzu doesn’t think they have a better option. They might kill her now, but Pein will send someone else in her stead; and this way there will at least be a chance that they’ll be finally left alone.

“Fine,” he says and removes his ring. “Hidan.”

Hidan shrugs. “Whatever. Though I don’t think Pein’s buying that.”

“Leave that to me,” Konan says. “I’ll convince him.”

Hidan tosses his ring to Kakuzu, and he catches it. Taking a moment to look at the rings, he can’t help but feel strange; it’s as though they’re cutting their ties with the Akatsuki completely.

Kakuzu isn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten rid of his ring earlier; knowing Hidan, he most likely forgot about it or didn’t care, but Kakuzu should have thought more of it.

He shakes his head; in the end, it turned out in their favor.

Without wasting any more time, he takes a step towards Konan and puts the rings into her open palm.

Her cold fingers shiver slightly when she touches his hand and lingers for a few moments. The contact isn’t pleasant; thankfully, it’s over soon.

“I’m sorry he made you go through this,” Konan whispers, and it’s perhaps the most emotion he ever saw her show.

Kakuzu grimaces but says nothing. He doesn’t need her pity.

Konan gives him a bleak half-smile, probably guessing his thoughts. “Do try not to cross paths with anyone else from the organization.”

A reasonable advice.

It seems there’s nothing more for them to say, but as she’s about to leave, Kakuzu can’t help but ask one last thing.

“Why?”

Konan turns around to look at them, and her voice is filled with bitterness when she says, “Because... it wouldn’t be right.”

“Such a sweetheart, ain’t she?” Hidan says when Konan completely disappears from their view. “I kinda feel bad for calling her a stuck-up bitch.”

Kakuzu only nods.

“We would’ve beaten her anyway, though,” Hidan continues. “So not much difference.”

“You underestimate Konan,” Kakuzu replies, still in his thoughts. The two of them would have been able to deal with her, but not as easily as Hidan wants to think. And he never disliked Konan, so he’s somewhat glad that they avoided the fight.

This went down... not quite like he’d expected, and Konan’s reasoning is still hard to understand. With her devotion to Pein, it’s strange to think she would disobey him; but if she’d experienced something similar with him...

Perhaps she did _understand_ after all.

Kakuzu isn’t completely convinced that they’re safe from the Akatsuki now, but there’s a chance, at least. If Pein believes that they are no longer a threat, things will be a lot easier for them.

Though they still have no idea what to do with their lives, they might now have enough time to figure that out.

A whole eternity, like Hidan had said.

“Hey,” Hidan touches his shoulder lightly. “Everything okay?”

Still somewhat uncertain, Kakuzu pulls him in, holds him closer; and feels calm doing so.

“Perhaps,” he says after a while.

Perhaps one day it will be.

***

Walking the empty streets of Amegakure, Konan throws her head up, looking at the clear sky—such a rare sight here.

That’s why she stops, to take in the view, not because she hesitates.

Konan slowly clenches and unclenches her fingers, breathes in the humid air. The uneasy feeling doesn’t leave still.

All this awakened too many memories in her, memories she’d hoped to bury forever.

_“This has always been in him.”_

She recalls Nagato’s face, twisted in fear of himself, his trembling hands, his breaking voice; she dreads even thinking of how it must feel when your mind is not your own.

To this day, she dreads thinking of how it feels when your friend suddenly hurts you for no reason.

Konan remembers the fear, this emptying feeling of confusion and betrayal; even if it was only for a few moments, it’s still so clear in her memory. Closing her eyes, she can almost feel the pain in her dislocated shoulder, the taste of blood in her mouth—she bit her tongue when he’d slammed her into the wall.

And she remembers Nagato’s quiet voice as he explained everything to her, and how her fear shifted into sympathy, and how she held him in her arms, hoping to bring some comfort.

Too much has happened since then, too much that still kept them close.

Konan preferred not to dig up the past. What happened wasn’t entirely Nagato’s fault, and since that day, he never once hurt her or anyone else—aside from when he had to during fights.

But she never quite imagined what it took to keep his other side under control.

Maybe it was partly the reason why... why everything happened the way it did.  
  
Kakuzu was one of the few to respect Pein instead of just fearing him; and the only one to admire him. Konan never asked for reasons, because it wasn’t really her place to do that; they weren’t close by any means.

When everything started between them, Konan chose to trust Nagato; she’d warned him and thought he would be careful. She even hoped that he’d found something other than painful memories to keep him going on.

And yet somehow what followed didn’t surprise her.

Konan shakes her head sharply, chasing the thoughts away. Now isn’t the time.

Nagato seems to have been waiting for her, as though he’d sensed her arrival. As soon as he hears Konan’s footsteps, he turns around; and they both stand here looking at each other for a few long moments.

Konan knows he doesn’t want to begin this conversation; and she feels a bitter lump in her throat for some reason.

It all feels like such an unfortunate turn of events; even though this time, no one could blame what happened on a simple accident.

“So?” Nagato finally asks. “Is it done?”

His face doesn’t betray him, but the slight pause in his voice does.

“Kakuzu is dead,” Konan says, keeping her voice flat. “Hidan also... will not be a threat anymore.”

She came up with a way to explain how she—supposedly—had dealt with Hidan, but Nagato doesn’t ask her about that. He doesn’t even ask about Kakuzu, though she assumed he would; but perhaps knowing the details would only make it worse.

As Konan hands the blood-stained rings to Nagato, the look in his eyes darkens.

“It’s unfortunate that things had to come to this,” she says, and she genuinely means it.

The Akatsuki are weakened now, and it will take a while to recover. Konan isn’t sure they will be able to find a suitable replacement for Hidan and Kakuzu, at least not soon enough; and it will certainly affect the organization a lot.

But so would their death.

Deep inside, Konan knows she’s made the right choice.

It’s in their best interest not to reveal Akatsuki’s secrets, and they don’t deserve to be punished for Nagato’s actions.

Even though Konan doesn’t want to judge him, she still understands: Nagato’s state of mind may not be his fault, but what he _did_ is. He knew what he was capable of; he knew he couldn’t control himself; and yet he still made that choice.

She says nothing because he probably knows that. Knows and regrets—but regret will not change anything. Just like it didn’t change anything for the two of them.

Nagato stares at the rings, frowning, and Konan can only guess what is going through his mind now.

She remembers him that day; devastated, shocked at what he’d done, and yet not finding it in himself to make amends. He told her he was sorry; when she really wasn’t the one he should have been apologizing to.

But even then, no apology would fix what he’d done.

And Konan thinks it’s for the best; there’s enough pain in this world as is.

Heavy, tense silence hangs over them again.

“It had to be done,” Nagato says finally. His voice is steady, but Konan knows him too well.

“Yes,” she agrees.

Nagato closes his eyes for a moment, and then looks into the distance.

A barely noticeable smile appears on his face, albeit fading instantly.

He also knows her too well.


End file.
